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Home , Bhai Mahavir, Chanakyapuri, Delhi Ridge, Hauz Khas, Homai Vyarawalla, Jugal Kishore Birla

DE LHI Urban Space and Human Destinies

Edited by VERONIOUE DUPONT . EMMA TARLO . DENIS VIDAL MANOHAR •A Publication of the French Research Institutes in Beyond its monuments, bureaucracy and pollution, there lies a which is at once more complex, intriguing and, at times, disturbing. This book is not a history of the 'capital, but rather an attempt to trace the ever-changing relationship's between people, power and place in contemporary urban life. It reveals a city shaped as much by migrants, businessmen, slum dwellers, politicians and conservationists as by architects and rulers. Bringing together the work of Indian and .European academics and activists working in the domains of anthropology, demography, geography, architecture, photography, history and political science, this book would be of interest to anyone keen to move beyond stereotyped representations of India's capit.81 city. .

Rs.475 DELHI Urban Space and Human Destinies Institut Français de Pondichéry (French Institute of Pondicherry): Created in 1955, the IFP is a multidisciplinary research and advanced educational institute. Major research works are focusing on Sanskrit and Tamil languages and literatures-in close collaboration with the Ecole Française d'Extrême­ Orient-ecosystems, biodiversity and sustainability, dynamics of population and socio-economic development. (InstitutFrançais de Pondichéry, Il, Saint Louis Street, P.B. 33 Pondicherry605001 , Tel: 91413 334170/334168, Telex: 469224 FRAN-In, Fax: 91413339534, E-mail: [email protected], Website: http://www.ifpindia.org) Centre de Sciences Humaines (Centre for Social Sciences and Humanities): Created in in 1989 the CSH, like its counterpart in Pondicherry, is also part of the same network of research centres of the French Ministry ofForeign Mfairs. The Centre's research work is primarily oriented towards the study ofissues concerning the contemporary dynamics ofdevelopment in India and South . The activities of the Centre are focused on four main themes, namely: Economic growth and sustainable development, International and regional relations, Institutional structures and political constructions of identity and Urban dynamics. (Centre de Sciences Humaines, 2, Road, New Delhi 110011, Tel: 91 11 301 6259/ 301 4173, Fax: 91 11 301 8480, E-mail: [email protected], Website: http://www.france.diplomatie.fr/hote/delhi-esh/home.htrn) DELHI

Urban Space and Human Destinies

Edited by VÉRONIQUE DUPONT, EMMA TARLO, DENIS VIDAL

MANüHAR \:- CENTRE DE SCIENCES HUMAINES

lnititut de l'I'cherthe pour I~ dbetoppement 2000 First published 2000

© Individual Contributors 2000

Ali rights reserved. No partof this publication may be reproduced or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without prior permission of the editors and the publisher

ISBN 81-7304-366-3

Published l7y Ajay KumarJain for Manohar Publishers & Distributors 4753/23 Ansari Road, New Delhi 110002

Published with the support of the Institut de Recherche pour le Développement ()

Typeset l7y AJ Software Publishing Co. Pvt. Ltd. 305 Chambers 1333 D.B. Gupta Road , New Delhi 110005

Print Perfect A-23 May_puri, Phase II New Delhi 110064 Contents

List ofIllustrations 7 List ofFigures 7 ListofMaps 7 List ofPlates 8

List ofTables 10

Acknowledgements 11

Abbreviations 13

1. The Alchemy of an Unloved City DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLo, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT 15

PART 1: LIFE HISTORIES-CITYHISTORY 2. Migrant Women and Urban Experience in a Squatter Seulement SARASWATI HArDER 29

3. Welcome to History: A Resettlement Colony in the Making EMMA TARLO 51

4. Urban Conquest ofOuter Delhi: Beneficiaries, Intermediaries and Victims The Case of the Countryside ANITA SONI 75

PART II: PEOPLE AND GOODS ON THE MOVE

5. Images and Voices ofTransport Workers in SYLVIE FRAISSARO 97

6. Mobility Patterns and Economie Strategies of Houseless People in Old Delhi VÉRONIQUE DUPONT 99 6 CONTENTS

7. Markets and Intermediaries: An Enquiry about the Principles of Market Economy in the Grain Market of Delhi DENIS VIDAL 125

PART III: MONUMENTS OF POWER 8. The Contemporary Architecture of Delhi: The Role of the State as Middleman A.G. KRIsHNA MENON 143

9. Concern, Indifference, Controversy: Reflections on Fifty Years of 'Conservation' in Delhi NARAYANI GUPTA 157

10. Delhi through the Eyes and Lenses of a Photographer SATISH SHARMA 173

PART IV: IDENTITIES AND POLITICS Il. Nationalist Movement in Delhi: From 'Locals' to Refugees--and towards Peripheral Groups? CHRISTOPHE ]AFFRELOT 181

12. Political Profile of Delhi and Support Bases of Parties: An Analysis V.B. SINGH 205

PART V: MAPPINGS 13. Spatial and Demographie Growth of Delhi since 1947 and the Main Migration Flows VÉRONIQUE DUPONT 229

14. Delhi's Place in India's Urban Structure PHILIPPE CADÈNE 241

Chronology ofSignificant Events in Delhi NARAYANI GUPTA 251

List ofContributors 253

Index 257 Illustrations

FIGURES

Figure 12.1 Vote preferences by economic class (A1l1ndia), 1996 218 Figure 12.2 Vote preferences by economic class (Delhi), 1996 219 Figure 13.1 Percentage distribution of migrants in the National Capital Territory ofDelhi by place oforigin (1951-91) Jacing Ntap 13.7

MAPS

Map l.l Delhi: Localities studied and other landmarks 26 Map 3.1 Map of Delhi indicating the different locations from which the residents ofWelcome have been displaced 72 Map 3.2 Official Plan ofWelcome Colony 73 Map 12.1 Parliamentary constituencies of Delhi 213

between pages 240-1 Map 13.1 Spatial expansion of urbanized zones in the Delhi Metropolitan Area from 1950 to 1997 Map 13.2 a & b Increase and decrease of population from 1981 to 1991 in different zones of the National Capital Territory of Delhi Map 13.3 Annual growth rate of the population from 1981 to 1991 in different zones of the National Capital Territory of Delhi Map 13.4 Population densities in different zones of the National Capital Territory of Delhi in 1991 Map 13.5 Location of resetttement colonies in Delhi Urban Agglomeration Map 13.6 Location ofsquatter settlements in Delhi Urban Agglomeration Map 13.7 Delhi Metropolitan Area: the Central Urban Agglomeration and its peripheral towns Map 13.8 Number of recent migrants in the National Capital Territory of Delhi in 1961 by state of origin (duration of residence: five years or less) Map 13.9 Number of recent migrants in the National Capital Territory of Delhi in 1971 by state of origin (duration of residence: less than 5 years) Map 13.10 Number of recent migrants in the National Capital Territory of Delhi in 1981 by state of origin (duration of residence": less than 5 years) Map 13.11 Number of recent migrants in the National Capital Territory of Delhi in 1991 by state oforigin (duration of residence: less than 5 years) Map 14.1 Headquarters of large-scale firms: the share of the public sector Map 14.2 Local control ofindustrial production Map 14.3 The density of banks in cities and towns larger than 50,000 inhabitants Map 14.4 Research and development institutions controlled by the central government Map 14.5 The universities Map 14.6 Cities and towns with more than 100 newspapers in 1989 8 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

Map 14.7 Production units by economic activity Map 14.8 Economie places controlled by Delhi Map 14.9 International hotels Map 14.10 Foreign exchanges

PLATES between pages 98-9 Plate 5.1 Kulbir Singh: Delhi Transport Corporation Bus Driver Plate 5.2 Dharma: Goods Cycle Rickshaw Puller Plate 5.3 Sona: Hand Cart Puller Plate 5.4 Sriram: Horse Cart Puller Plate 5.5 Rajnath Tripathi: Auto Rickshaw Driver Plate 5.6 Rajender Prasad: Blue Line Bus Driver Plate 5.7 .Jitender Singh: Bullock Cart Driver Plate 5.8a & b Plate 5.9a & b Ajmeri Gate Plate 5.10 Kuldeep Singh: Four Seater Driver (Phut-Phut) Plate 5.11 Deepak De: Passenger Cycle Rickshaw Pu11er Plate 5.12 Gulab Kumar Chaudhary: Taxi Driver Plate 5.13 Omvir Singh: Tempo Driver Plate 5.14 Virpal: School Rickshaw Driver Plate 5.15 Srinivas: Three Wheeler Goods Carrier Plate 5.16 Vijay Kumar: Truck Driver between pages 156-7

Plate 8.1 The aura of Delhi: the Capital Complex. Plate 8.2 The aura of Delhi: the wide tree-lined avenues in Lutyens' bungalow zone. Plate 8.3 The Revivalists: Ashoka Hote!. (Architect: B.E. Doctor) Plate 8.4 The Modernists: the WHO building. (Architect: Habib Rehman) Plate 8.5 Utilitarian modernism: the School of Planning and Architecture. (Architect: TJ. Manickam) Plate 8.6 Utilitarian modernism: the AGCR building. (Architects: The CPWD) Plate 8.7 Government housing in the 1950s: Bapa Nagar. Plate 8.8 The reaction to utilitarian modernism: an upper-dass house in Panchsheel Park. Plate 8.9 The reaction to utilitarian modernism: an upper-<:lass house in Defence Colony. Plate 8.10 The self-finance housing scheme at . (Architect: Kuldip Singh) Plate 8.11 The mega projects emerging out of the implementation of the Master Plan of Delhi-1962: The Bhikaji Cama Place District Centre. (Architect: Raj Rewal) Plate 8.12 The mega projects ofthe 1970s: Exhibition pavilionsfor the Trade FairAuthority of India provided the opportunity for experimentation. The entrance to the Hall ofNations. (Architect: Raj Rewal) Plate 8.13 Major institutional complexes: the Indian Institute of Technology, Delhi. (Architect: J.I<. Choudhary) Plate 8.14 The mega projects of the 1980s: the SCOPE Complex. (Architect: Raj Rewal) Plate 8.15 The post Iiberalization architecture ofthe 1990s. Plotted row-hou~ingin Shivalik Enclave. between pages 172-3

Plate 9.1 'Echoing empty monuments.' Entrance to NajafKhan'sTomb (c. 1782), opposite Safdarjang Airport. DST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 9

Plate 9.2 'Oblivious to the geography ofadjacent villages.' Humayunpur, a village engulfed by Safdarjang Enclave. Plate 9.3 'Villagers and boutique owners trying to take advantage of each other.' Village. Plate 9.4' 'The avenue ofChandni Chowk narrowed with veranda-shops.' Plate 9.5 'Students of architecture were encouraged to study the layout of gulis.' Naugharana, Shahjahanabad. Plate 9.6 'The Delhi list includes many .' in Guli Khazanchi. Plate 9.7 'The empty cupola seemed to demand an occupant.' Canopy at . Plate 9.8 'It is so new and beautiful.' Gurdwara adjoining Humayun's Tomb.

between pages 178-9

Plate 10.1 Beating the Retreat: dress rehearsal on Vijay Chowk Plate 10.2 Bofor's gun on Raj Path Plate 10.3 Rajiv Gandhi poster, Safdarjang Airport Plate 10.4 Rajiv Gandhi's cut-out, New Delhi Plate 10.5 Rajiv Gandhi: popular~onstructedphotograph Plate 10.6 Political cut-out of a leader, Plate 10.7 Rafi Marg, New Delhi Plate 10.8 House Plate 10.9 Political cut-out of a leader, Connaught Place Plate 10.10 as Durga: post 1984 elections, New Delhi Plate 10.11 1984 riots, Trilokpuri Plate 10.12 Riot control, Raj Path Plate 10.13 Netaji ,Jama Masjid, Old Delhi Plate 10.14 Tilak Marg, New Delhi Plate 10.15 Election graffiti, Old Delhi Plate 10.16 Election graffiti, New Delhi Plate 10.17 Commercial hoarding, New Delhi Plate 10.18 Street children,Jama Masjid, Old Delhi Plate 10.19 Chandelier in a bathroom, Old Delhi Plate 10.20 Vision ofDelhi in popular photography: Plate 10.21 Vision ofDelhi in popular photography: Plate 10.22 Vision of Delhi in popular photography: Bahai Temple Tables

Table 6.1 Occupational pattern of the houseless population of Old Delhi, 1996 104 Table 6.2 Percentage distribution of the houseless population of Old Delhi by industrial category 105 Table ILl Party-wise composition of Delhi Municipal Corporation 181 Table 11.2 Percentage ofvotes polled in state elections and Delhi Metropolitan Council Elections 182 Table 11.3 Caste and community of the Jana Sangh candidates to the Delhi Municipal Corporation in 1971 and ta the Delhi Metropolitan Council in 1972 195 Table 11.4 Occupational background of theJana Sangh candidates to the Delhi Municipal Corporation in 1971 196 Table 11.5 Occupational background of the BJP members of the Delhi Municipal Corporation elected in 1983 197 Table Il.6 Caste and community background of the BJP and Congress candidates to the assembly elections in 1993 198 Table 11.7 Occupational background of the BJP and Congress candidates to the assembly elections in 1993 199 Table 11.8 Caste background of the BJP Delhi State Executive and of the Delhi Congress Pradesh Committee 199 Table 12.1 In-migrant population of Delhi, 1951-91 208 Table 12.2 Social profile of constituencies in Delhi 209 Table 12.3 Political profile ofLok Sabha constituencies (1952-96) 211 Table 12.4 Background characteristics of respondents and the total population of Delhi (in percent) 214 Table 12.5 Vote preferences by respondents' backgrounds 216 Table 12.6 Vote preferences by caste and c1ass (in per cent) (Ail India) 221 Table 12.7 Vote preferences by place of birth 222 Table 13.1 Population, area and density ofDelhi Urban Agglomeration from 1911 to 1991 230 Table 13.2 Population growth of cities, towns and rural areas in Delhi Metropolitan Area from 1951 to 1991 234 Acknowledgements

This book is the outcome ofa collective research project on the city ofDelhi and it~ coniemporary evolution. This Indo-French project was initiated in 1993, as a collaboration between the Centre de Sciences Humaines (CSH, New Delhi) and the French Institute ofResearch for Development (IRD-formerly ORSTOM, Paris), in association with the Centre for the Study ofDeveloping Societies (CSDS, Delhi). It received financial support from Action Concertée Sciences de l'Homme et de la Société ORSTOM/CNRS (Centre National de la Recherche Scientifique) in 1994. A research team under the Centre d'Etudes de l'Inde et de l'Asie du Sud (CElAS, Paris) was also formed on this subject. The project was fuelled by an awareness of a need for new research on the social and cultural dynamics at play in the capital city of India. The CSDS took a keen interest in promoting research on Delhi and this led to the organization of the 'Delhi seminar'. This seminar was held on a regular basis from November 1994 to May 1996 at the Centre. It brought together members of the Delhi team with a number of other interested scholars and social activists who presented ongoingcontemporary research for discussion. These regular sessions were succeeded by an international conference: 'DELHI GAMES. Use and control of urban space: power games and actors' strategies', held at the CSDSon 3 and 4 April 1998. Many ofthe contributions to this book have their origin in the proceedings of the conference. The conference wasjointIy organized by the CSH and the CSDS and has received financial supportfrom other institutions: IRD, the Maison des Sciences de l'Homme (MSH, Paris), the Economie and Social Research Council (), the Institute ofDevelopment Studies (lUED, Geneva). We would like to express our gratitude to VB. Singh, Director of the CSDS, who not only promoted the Indo-French project from its inception, but also took an active part in the research programme and in the organization of the conference. Our sincere thanks are also due to Chandrika: Parmar for having been such an efficient and dynamic member of the organizing committee. We are also grateful ta aIl the participants, contributors, chairpersons and panelists at the seminar, and aU those who took part in debates. Those whose comments helped in the revision of the papers deserve a special mention: Bina Agarwal, R.C. Aggarwal, Pierre Audinet, Ashish Banerjee, Amita Baviskar, Tarun Bose, Roma Chatterjee, Malay Chatterjee, Dipankar Gupta, Saraswati Haider, Arup Mitra, Ashis Nandy, KT. Ravindran, Dhirubhai L. Sheth, Tejbir Singh, P.S.A. Sundaram, Mohammed Talib, Patricia Uberoi, ShivVishvanathan, Marie-Hélène Zérah. We regret thatwe could notinclude aIl of the original contributions here. 12 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

The preparation of this volume would not have been possible without the help ofUma Krishnan. Finally, we would like to thank the former as weil as the present directors of the Centre de Sciences Humaines, namely Bruno Dorin and Frédéric' Grare, for their active interest in the publication, and for the financial support of the CSH. Abbreviations

ABVP Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad AIIMS Ali India Institute ofMedical Sciences ASI Archaeological Survey of India BHU Benares Hindu University BJP Bharatiya]anata Party B]S Bharatiya]an Sangh BSP Bahujan Samaj Party CPWD Central Public Works Department CSD Conservation Society of Delhi CSIR Council ofScientific and Industrial Research DAV Dayanand Anglo-Vedic DDA Delhi Development Authority mz Delhi Imperial Zone DLF Delh-i Land Finance DSIDC Delhi State Industrial Development Corporation DSMDC Delhi State Mineral Development Corporation DUAC Delhi Urban Arts Commission DUSU Delhi Univeristy Students Union HUDCO Housing and Urban Development Corporation INC INTACH Indian National Trust for Artistic and Cultural Heritage ITC Instructors' Training Camp ]B ]amuna Bazaar ]D ]anata DaI If Jhuggt-jhonpri ]P ]anata Party LF Left Front LLB Bachelor of Law MA Master ofArts MCD Municipal Corporation of Delhi MCD Metropolitan Council ofDelhi MLA Member of the Legislative Assembly NCT National Capital Territory NDMC New Delhi Municipal Committee NF National Front NMML Nehru Museum & Memorial Library NWFP North West Frontier Province OBC Other Backward Classes OTC Offiœrs' Training Camp PPS Probability Proportionate to Size RSS Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh SDM Subdivisional Magistrate UA Urban Agglomeration WHO World Health Organization

1

The Alchemy ofan Unloved City

DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

Wander around the fringes oftheJama Masjid in the 'old city' or among the ancientruins ofTughlaqabad, and you may succeed in recovering something of Delhi's romantic appeal. However, the reality of India's vast capital is at once more diverse, more anarchic and at times more intriguing than the semi-mythical Delhi oftourist-book imagination. In this volume, which brings together research from several different domains, it is on these other aspects of the city that we wish to concentrate. There is, of course, no single way of grasping the complexity of a city like Delhi. While questionnaires, statistics, maps and photographs can no longer fool us into believing their purported objectivity, neither can intimate quotations and case studies pretend ta offer unmediated access to the truth. AH are mere modes ofrepresentation with different strengths andweaknesses and, rather than privilege any single one ofthem, we have chosen ta combine a variety of methodologies in our, attempts to shed fresh light on different aspects of the city. This deliberate heterogeneity ofapproach is reflected in the backgrounds of contributors which span not only conventional social sciences such as histary, anthropology, geography, demography and political science but also the visually expressive domains of architecture and photography. Many ofthe contributors are citizens ofDelhi who have a long and intimate relationship with the issues they address. It would be wrong, however, to surmise that in bringing together a diversity of app~oaches, our aim is to present an exhaustive portrait of the city and its inhabitants. As Delhi's own history amply demonstrates, there is often only a fine line to be drawn between the desire to create a totalizing image of the city and the confusion of that image with reality-hence the various attempts made by those in power tb make the capital correspond to their desired image and to suppress those aspects which do not conform. Our aim, in this book, is quite different. Wewould rather convince our readers that it is impossible to examine any single aspect of the city without it straightaway unearthing other elements which defy aH attempts to reduce De1hi's complex reality. 16 DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

THE CITYTHAT NOBODYLOVES No one can doubt the fascination that (previously Bombay) arouses throughout India, even among those who oppose much of what the city seems to represent. Similarly Calcutta has a legendary reputation not least amongst its own inhabitants who are often ready to defend it with zealous affection. No such loyalty and affection is found amongst the inhabitants of Delhi who are usually either indifferent or actively dislike the city in wh)ch they live. With the exception of a few chasers of djinns,l of the writer, ,2 sorne descendants oflong-established Delhi families and a smattering ofothers (induding sorne ofthe collaborators in this book)­ hardly anyone is ready to dedare a passion for Delhi; not even Ashis Nandy, whose taste and opinion usually flows against the general tide!3 Admittedly Mumbai has its film industry to keep its exciting con­ temporary image alive and throbbing. Similarly, Calcutta's reputation is the product of continuous creative effort on the part of its cultural elites who, for more than a century, have expressed appreciation oftheir city, aided by the enthusiasm of the general populace. Things are very different in Delhi. Despite the new status it acquired as India's capital in 1911-12 and the sweeping changes which have transformed the city since independence, Delhi has somehow got stuck with an image based on stereotypes built as early as the fourteenth century and elaborated during the colonial era. Take, for example, the image of Delhi as a city characterized by frag­ mentation. Most works on the capital cannot resist reiterating the daim that Delhi cannot really be considered a city in the true sense owing to the heterogeneity ofits urban fabric. And so a consensus has been perpetuated since medieval times in which Delhi is defined as a 'city ofcities'-an urban patchwork made up of various components, each of which is thought to bear the imprint of a distinct social, cultural and architectural identity.4 This insistence on the fundamental heterogeneity of the urban space is echoed by the insistence by most historians that it is also discontinuity that characterizes the history of the city. In what today certainly remains one of the best collective volumes on the city, the pioneering historian of Delhi, Percival Spear, depicts the city's development as a perpetuai 'stop-go' movement, narrowly obedient to the political history of the moment.5 Somewhat audaciously for an historian, Spear concludes his study by prophesying, 'it is then, with no positive case for continuance, that we may find that the glory of Delhi will depart almost as suddenly as it was thrust upon her in 1912'.6 These words seem to. echo Clémenceau's earlier pronouncement. Visiting New Delhi shortly after its creation, he dedared, 'it win make handsome ruins'. It is tempting to ask what lies behind this endless emphasis on Delhi's absence ofspatial and historical continuity in recent times. Is itperhapsjust an extension of the recurrent daim made in much colonialliterature that South Asia did not have any genuine cultural, social or historic~1 continuity until the arrivaI of the Bntish? With its mythical reputation as the ultimate urban emblem ofthe power and dedine ofthe various dyn~ties which ruled THE ALCHEMY OF AN UNLOVED CITY 17 , Delhi does indeed seem the very inqrnation ofsuch a history. And il is this representation that the literature on the capital continues ta convey. However, one of the most important advances made in recent sociological and historiographical writing about India is the questioning of this perspective. Such new research highlights the continuities that have beenjust as decisive as the fractures in the history ofthe subcontinent. Delhi is no exception to this rule, and we are today witnessing the beginnings of a historical revision of the city's past.7 Yet most works on the capital continue to perpetuate outdated categories of analysis and perception. The impoverished image ofDelhi, that reduces it to the status of a hall of mirrors, each reflecting the power of the moment, may be colonial in origin, but it is not without contemporary relevance. For it is this idea that continues to inspire many ofDelhi's bureaucrats and politicians even today. One only has to read A.G. Krishna Menon's contribution to this volume to realize the extent to which administrative powers continue to play an essential role in the urbanism ofthe city. No such equivalent is found in other Indian metropolis. And though it is true that since Independence, there have not been any urban or architectural creations as imposing as Tughlaqabad, Shahjahanabad and Lutyens' New Delhi, this is not for lack of political will. Politicians, administrators, architects and town planners have on the contrary dreamed ofbuilding 'a ninth Delhi'8 or of'reconstructing Shahjahanabad'.9 And it would be wrong to think that these projects failed to come to fruition because they were considered too authoritarian for the demands of a new democratic India. A reading of Emma Tarlo's description of how Delhi's poor have been treated in various urban development projects since Independence, dispels any illusions on that score. Thus political power remains undeniably central to the functioning of Delhi today. And this actually strengthens the need to break loose from the systems of representations which successive powers have tended to impose on the city and its inhabitants. Satish Sharma's contribution to this volume offers a striking visual demonstration. Meditating on his experience as a professional photographer in Delhi, he suggests that the visual imagery of India's capital is restricted and constrained partly by political and administrative controIs. At the same time we should not underestimate the equally constricting demands of the with ils tendency to perpetuate a coloniallyinspired 'exotic' or 'picturesque' imageryofthe city and ils populace. Satish Sharma explains how he has tried to elude these demands in his own work both by presenting the elite in a different light and by drawing attention to alternative popular photographic images of the city and its people. Such images challenge elite aesthetics and pre-occupations although they are not entirely uninfluenced by them. Most of the contributions ta this volume display a similar concern with challenging conventional images ofthe city and ils populace. In the proccss, they contribute towards the building of alternative images of Delhi which are at once richer and less predictable for they refer to other social dynamics, other life experiences and other perspectives. 18 DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

A DIFFERENT !DEA OF DELHI Poor historical movies can be recognized by the fact that the actors live in decors which are exclusively contemporary to their times. Yet what characterizes every great city is not simply the way different architectural styles and forms of urbanism predominate in turn but also the way they coexist, both physicaIly and ideologicaIly. Delhi is a fantastic illustration of this principle, despite the oft-repeated temptation ofits rulers to stan l'rom scratch by completely replacing much of the urban fabric. Both the city's architecture and it~ ];iyout represent an interlacing ofextremely varied styles, the coexistence ofwhich is based on fragile foundations. Hence it is only in the works of poets, novelists, historians, and above aIl, tourist guides, that Sha~ahanabadis permanently destined to incarnate the rise and l'aIl ofthe , while New Delhi endlessly e~itomizes the grandiose architectural foIly of the declining British Empire. Such a perception ignores the fact that the uses and meanings ofbuildings change over lime. For example, for over a century the has served as a garrison, first for the British army, and later the Indian army. Furthermore it is l'rom the entrance to Ùle fort that the Prime Minister makes his annual speech, thereby transforming the building into a symbol of 1ndependentIndia. Similarly Rashtrapati Bhawan--once the British viccregal palace- is today the Indian presidential residence, much against the wishes ofCandhi, who had wanted it to be converted into a vast hospital complex. ln otherwords, with the exception ofmost religious buildings, the urban histQry of Delhi is as much about what has happened to monuments and neighbourhoods as about what they may have signified when they were first conceived. This point is brought out by Emma Tarlo and Narayani Cl/pta in their discussions oftwo very different aspects ofthe city's developmenl. Emma Tarlo's ethnographie study ofa resettlcment colony for àisplaced .squatters in , reveals how the development ofsuch urban spaces can not be understood unless we examine the relationship between policies, plans, life histories and critic'al events. She unpicks the numerous factors and circumstances that have transformed one particular colony both in terms of architectural composition and in terms ofsocial demography. Here there is no straightforward transfer of plans into realities despite the level of authoritarianism behind resettlement projects. At the other end of the spectrum, Narayani Gupta explores tlle contro­ versies surrounding the preservation and/or destruction of Delhi's better known architectural heritage. She shows how the preservation ofthe colonial buildings and layout ofLutyens' New Delhi is largely the result of the extent to which political and administrative elites continue to invest in the area which is today one of the best preserved parts of the city. By contrast, Shahjahanabad (Old Delhi), has been less fortunate. Both its classification as a 'notified sIum' and the intensification of commercial activities in the area, have been practically fatal ta its architectural heritage. But it wou1d be wrong ta assume that the destinies of particular buildings are necessarily THE ALCHEMY OF AN UNLOVED CITY 19

dictated by their religious identity or origins. For example, the tombs ofthe sultans ofLodi have been weil protected owing largely to their incorporation into a weil maintained public garden, enjoyed by people of all religious persuasions. Itis not onlywith the marching oftime thatwe find a discrepancy between what a particular building is supposed to represent and what it actually seems to convey. Such a discrepancy may exist from the very momentofa building's conception. It is, after ail, only in the dreams of rulers, the sketch pads of architects and the advertisements of real estate agents that architectural projects are ever in total harmony with the intentions of their promoters and the ideologies and lifestyles of their inhabitants. Menon's discussion ofDelhi's architecture since Independence brings out this point quite clearly. He shows how Nehru's ambition for India's capital did not differ much from that of many ofhis predecessors to the extent that he wanted the new architecture of the city to reflect his own idea of the era and government he personified. However, as Menon demonstrates, there is not much specificity to Delhi's modern architecture which, more often than not, expresses the dominant influence ofthe state bureaucracyand the scanty imagination of most of the Indian architects freshly trained abroad. Menon's conclusions are based on the findings of a collective research project aimed at identifying the specificity of Delhi's architecture since Independence. By studying the features ofa wide variety ofbuildings rather than simply selecting the usual few exceptional examples, Menon was able to identify various trends. Until the 1980s Delhi's architecture was characterized by a bland international modernism with occasional half­ heartedrevivalist attempts. Moreover, Menon interprets the bizarre success of the Austrian architect, Karl Heinz, in Delhi as a reaction to the boring nature ofofficial architecture at the time. Karl Heinz enjoyed the patronage of elites in the private sector with his parodies of Swiss chalets and Tuscan and Andalusian villas. It is only in the projects of the 1980s onwards that Menon identifies a more systematic determination to innovate among Delhi's architects. This is true both for public and private sector projects. Ali this suggests that the architecture and urban history ofDelhi cannot be reduced to stereotypical descriptions any more than it can be reduced to meaningless debates about degrees ofHindu, Islamic, orWestern influences. Neither is it necessarily possible to predict which circumstances and events most effect different aspects ofthe city's development. The future ofLutyens' Delhi today is, for example, threatened more by the progressive loosening of planning restrictions than it ever was by the transfer of power in 1947. Similarly, Shahjahanabad's architectural heritage has this century suffered more from the neglect of planners and the haphazard commercialization that cornes with unrestrained economic development than from the dramatic transfers of population and ownership that accompanied Partition. The increasing growth of economic activities in üld Delhi is a theme explored by Véronique Dupont in her study of the houseless populatioll and by Denis Vidal in his study of the grain market of Khari Baoli. Thcse 20 DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

studies both show how increased commercial activity has led to a redefinition of the urban fabric and the transformation ofspecific neighbourhoods. For example, one indirect consequence of the spreading commercialization of the old city has been a lowering ofthe population density in Shahjahanabad. This had in fact long been considered a desirable, if unattainable, aim by policy makers who had argued for the need to reduce the population density in order to make the area more habitable. As it is, the reverse logic has come into operation. The spread of commercial activities has made the area so uninhabitable that many of the more prosperous Old Delhi residents have chosen to leave in search of accommodation elsewhere. At the bottom end of the economic spectrum, others have ofcourse been forced out under the sium clearance scheme which has been in operation since 1958 and which played a particularly important role in restructuring the profile ofdifferent areas of Delhi during the Emergency years of 1975-7. In these two years alone as many as 7,00,000 people were displaced to resettlement colonies, most ofwhich were located on the outskirts of the city. Such large-scale acts of displacement remind us of the precariousness of the lifestyles, homes and environments of many of Delhi's inhabitants. According to the statistics analysed by Véronique Dupont, practically half the population of Delhi lives in illegal settlements: either in unauthorized colonies, the existence of which is not officially recognized, or in squatter settlements which are perpetually threatened with demolition. The human and sociological consequences ofsuch a situation cannot be underestimated as Saraswati Haider's research demonstrates. The situation of illegality in which so many in-migrants find themselves leads not only to a permanent sense of insecurity but also to an inability to ameliorate the situation. Most squatters feel it is not worth investing their meagre incomes in their immediate environment when their homes might be destroyed by the authorities at any moment. On the other hand, that moment might stretch out for several years, if not decades owing to the political games of local leaders and politicians who patronize squatter settlements. In the meantime, the inhabitants of such areas carry on living in what are often deplorable conditions. Though it is commonplace to consider that urban life does at least have the advantage ofproviding an element ofindividual emancipation for those who migrate from rural areas, Saraswati Haider's bleak portrait of the lives of squatter women refutes this. Not only do most of the women she interviewed appear to deplore the conditions in which they live (a fact which is hardly surprising), but they also feel that their lives and horizons have becorne even more limited and confined than they were in their villages of origin. Such women seem to benefit neither from a weakening of the restrictions imposed by the extended family nor from any increased intimacy that one might expect to develop within the nuclear family. Another point which cornes to light from this study is that for the first generation of in-migrants, their villages and regions of origin remain the most significant point ofreference even when they have been living in Delhi THE ALCHEMY OF AN UNLOVED CITY 21 for several years. This is perhaps the only really cornmon feature ofexistence shared by the women ofthe squatter settlement studied by Saraswati Haider and the largely male 'houseless' population of the old city studied by Véronique Dupont. The latter also tend to retain their regions oforigin as a key focal point socially, culturally and affectively. Yet the most interesting thing to emerge from research among those who sleep on the pavements and in the night shelters of the old city is that their situation is perhaps not as drastically socially or economicallydeprived as it atfirst appears. Véronique Dupont's findings suggest that houseless people do not constitute the poorest fraction of the population, either in Delhi where they are employed, or in their regions of origin where they usually have a permanent residence. By comparison to the squatterwomen studied by Saraswati Haider, the houseless population seem almost advantaged. Whereas the squatter women had usually come to Delhi against their own volition and virtually all regretted being there, the houseless men interviewed by Véronique Dupont were in Delhi as a result of choices they had made and usually had sorne motivation for being there. Most had been stimulated largely by economic reasons and, despite all the disadvantages accruing to their lifestyle in the city and the drastic financial constraints they endure, the majority of them had made a deliberate decision to live in a houseless condition in Delhi in order to be able to .maximize their savings and avoid spending money on something as short-term as accommodation. In this sense, houselessness is part ofa long­ term economic strategy. The decision that many in-migrants make to come to Delhi alone and take refuge on pavements and in night shelters can be better understood when one realizes the numerous pressures associated with even the most basic accommodation. Not only is there the difficulty of finding a place to live within easy distance from the workplace, but also the problem of the illegal status of most of the more affordable options. Those who choose to stay in an existing squatter setùement inevitably find themselves targets of varying degrees of economic and political blackmail. Many of Delhi's politicians gather their support by promising to regularize the situation of squatter families and to improve their standard of living in exchange for electoral support. At the same time, they often threaten them with dire consequences if they show signs ofwithholding support. If the politicians' many promises were fulfilled, then the deal would at least have sorne material worth. But, as squatters themselves realize, no politician would be so foolish as to redress the situation for this would mean relinquishing his or her hold over potential electors. It is within this context that we can better understand how and why so many of the inhabitants of the resetùement colony studied by Emma Tarlo, did not resist the truly Faustian pact imposed on them during the state of Emergency. This was the time when many agreed to be sterilized or to pay others to get sterilized as a means of securing small plots of land on a so­ called legal basis. Tricks and machinations concerning land and property are by no means 22 DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

restricted to the urban poor and their patrons. In fact, they are nowhere more apparent than in the antics of those wealthy Delhites who, in recent years, have started posing as 'farmers' on the outskirts ofthe city. Anita Soni takes us on a revealing tour of the Mehrauli countryside in so-<:alled rural Delhi where new farms seem to be proliferating at an unexpected rate. But before we can delude ourselves into believing that this is a new ecologically sound form ofurban development, we are shown what lies behind the walls of these so called farms. Here we find, not simple rural farmhouses but palatial villas, not fields of crops but swimming pools and luxury gardens. The proliferation of these false farms not only violates existing property laws but is also ecologically disastrous. And so an area which should have been reserved as a 'green lung' for the capital becomes l'et another drag on the capital's scarce resources. Unlike the migrant workers who came to the area sorne years earlier to work in the stone quarries, the wealthy owners ofunauthorized fannhouses are weIl placed for staying put. Most have sufficient political and financial clout to be able to minimize the risk of eviction.

POUTICS, COMMERCE AND THE REIGN OF INTERMEDIARIES Itshould by now be clear that the history and sociology ofDelhi is about the relationship between people and place played out in different parts of the city at different moments in time. Yet, as we have seen, the dynamics of this relationship are often highly complex and have been subject to a variety of misconceptions and oversimplifications. This is as true for the political sphere as for the architectural and spatial. Christophejaffrelot's research challenges the common assumption that the long-standing success of Hindu nationalist parties in Delhi politics can be adequately explained bl' the traumas faced by the Hindu refugees who came to the capital following Partition. Whilst it is true that the huge influx of refugees altered both the religious make-up and the voting patterns of the people ofDelhi, it is insufficient to interpret the rise ofHindu nationalism purely as a consequence of the Partition experience. What Christophe jaffrelot's research reveals is that Hindu nationalism was already gaining popularity both in the and in Delhi in the decades leading up to Partition. Its main support came from the Hindu business communities in both areas. One effectofPartition was to increase the concentration ofthese business communities in the capital and it is this, rather than the Partition experience per se, which has inflated the fortunes ofHindu nationalist parties in Delhi. Interestinglya similar interpretation is suggested by V.B. Singh's study ofthe 1996 elections in Delhi. His analysis confirms that despite the sweeping upheavals in the politicallife of the country in recent years, the social base of the two main parties, the Congress and the BjP () has remained relativeIl' stable. The success, and also the limitations. of the THE ALCHEMY OF AN UNLOVED CITY

BJP seems to be directly linked ta the faet that wealthy upper caste people, and in particular, business communities, are over-represented in the capital. Although V.B. Singh and Christophe Jaffrelot's research is restricted mainly to the rise ofthe Hindu nationalist movement in Delhi, it nonetheless has wider analytical implications. Both reveal that political events are not necessarily the most significant factor in influencing voting patterns. Rather, it would appear that politicallife in Delhi is also governed to a large extent by the ideology of the business communities and by the way historical and political events favour or diminish their grip on the city. To ascertain the precise nature of this grip, one has to go beyond the purely political to examine the social and economic dynamics at play in Delhi. As Saraswati Haider demonstrates, we cannot fully grasp how electoral policy functions in Delhi without also considering the crucial role played by the intermediaries (pradhans and others) who link the capital's poor to its politicians. 1o Similarly, whatever field ofeconomic activity we have examined, whether the wholesale markets investigated by DenisVidal, the stone quarries analysed by Anita Soni or the informai job market examined by Véronique Dupont, we find that intermediaries or brokers play an essential raie. Neither should it be imagined that direct state intervention nece~sarily diminishes the presence and puissance of intermediaries. As Anita Soni shows, the main consequence of the nationalization of the stone quarries on the periphery ofDelhi, in 1976, was to add a new layer of intermediaries to the ones that already existed. However, the most extreme example ofhow intermediaries subvertstate imperatives is found in EmmaTarlo's discussion of birth control politics in Delhi during the Emergency. Here we see the worst excesses of governmental authoritarianism diverted into a shocking new form of 'business transaction' as intermediaries created a new market in which land was traded for sterilization. Given that the consequence of direct state intervention is to increase, rather than reduce, the presence ofintermediaries, we might expect them to become obsolete with the current trend towards the globalization of the market economy. But Denis Vidal's study of the main grain market in üld Delhi suggests this will not happen. He shows that intermediaries, though they are in many ways parasitic, cannot simply be dismissed as impediments to the functioning of markets. While it is true that they generally gain a substantial profit from transactions, it is also true that they play a decisive role in defining supply and demand and in setting up business relations. This means that they play an important role in discovering new potential markets and facilitating the generalization ofthe marketeconomy. Far from suggesting the diminution of Delhi's economic importance, the omni­ presence of intermediaries is evidence of the extreme degree of com­ mercialization prevalent in every aspect oflife in the city. Itis time at last to challenge the long-standing opposition drawn between Mumbai as a city dominated purely by business concerns and Delhi as a city dominated almost entirely by politics and administration. This well-worn cliché has served to reassure those who wish to believe that economic life 24 DENIS VIDAL, EMMA TARLO, VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

has remained largely independent of bureaucracy, just as it has served to reassure others that it is the state which ultimately controis the destiny of the nation. However, the contributions in this volume confirm that it is illusory to think of 'economics' and 'politics' as autonomous domains in Delhi, as elsewhere, and that it is artificial to draw a separation between the state and administration on the one hand from the market on the other. lt should therefore come as no surprise when we learn from Philippe Cadène's maps that with the spread of liberalization, Delhi is coming to occupy an increasingly large role in the economy of India, to the detriment, not only of Calcutta, but also, Mumbai.

TRAJECTORY OF THIS VOLUME The essays in this book take us from the specifie to the general, although the relation between the two is always apparent. This means that although we begin in Part 1 with the experiences of people who inhabit comparatively marginal spaces-a squatter settlement, a resettlement colony and the rural fringes of - wc learn how thcir lives are intimately bound up with wider historical, political and economic developments. Life-histories thcrefore become a means to understanding the history and identity of various localities within the city. That particular locations are defined partly by the people and goods that move through them is a theme taken up in Part II which shifts the focus to the area commonly known as Old Delhi. It begins with visual and verbal vignettes from the lives ofa few ofthe thousands ofmen who earn a livelihood in the transport industry. Whether driving buses, bullock carts, trucks or rickshaws, these transport workers are essential to the social and economic dynamics of the city. So too are the houseless people who sleep on the pavements ofOld Delhi by night and perform a wide variety ofmanual tasks during the day. Tracing their movements enables us to understand the logic behind the apparently perpetuai stream of people attracted to Delhi's crowded commercial core while an examination ofthe role ofintermediaries in the wholesale grain market ofKhari Baoli helps unpack the dynamics of business relations which link a few narrow streets in Old Delhi to national and global markets. Part III leads us out of specifie localities towards a wider consideration of the buildings which help to define the identity and reputation of the capital as a whole. What becomes clear, whether we are discussing modern architecture, conservation history or photographie representations, is the complexity of the relationship between architecture and power in India's capital city. In Parts IV and V we take another step back to document and analyse political, demographic and economic developments. Here we are less concerned with the histories of individual people or buildings than with general trends which help characterize voting patterns and migratory flows to and from the capital. Finally, through a series of cartographie representations, we are able to take distance from Delhi by placing it within the larger Indian urban structure. THE ALCHEMY OF AN UNLOVED CITY 25

Though we end with maps and statistics which enable generalisations about the city, it is hoped that readers will not forget the human stories which lie behind-and too often escape-such neat formulations. Delhi represents very different things to different people and, in many ways, this book is the proofofil. Not only are the experiences of the women and men whose lives are portrayed widely divergent, but so too are those of the contributors whose attitudes to the development of the city vary from deep frustration and concern to occasional bursts of optimism. As editors, we have not tried to wipe out this diversity for we feel that it is this which rendered the collaboration lively. We hope that readers will share our feeling that such diversity of perspectives enriches the volume and prevents it from creating yet another totalizing image of India's capital city.

NOTES

1. W. Dalrymple, Cily oJDjinns: A Year in Delhi, New Delhi: Harper Collins, 1993. 2. Khushwant Singh, Delhi, a Novel, Delhi: Penguin, 1989. 3. See: A. Baviskar, 'Towards a sociology ofDelhi, Report on a seminar', Economie and Politiral Wee/

( / N J t 5km 1 / HARYANA 1

MAP 1.1 DELHI LOCALITIES STUDIED AND OTHER LANDMARKS. PARTI LIFE HISTüRIES-CITYHISTüRY

2

Migrant Women and Urban Experience in a Squatter Settlement

SARASWATI HAIDER

Much oflndia's increasing urban population comprises migrants from rural areas where 39 per cent of people were still living be10w the poverty line in 19941 and where unemploymentand under-employment rates are high even now. Women form part of this vast migration stream heading for the major cities, not to find work (though they may later take up employment) but more often to join their husbands who are in search oflabour. The migrant men followed by their wives and sorne, or, ail children, are invariably forced to find shelter in squatter settlements because oflack ofaffordable housing in the cities. Such rural dwellers catapulted into an urban milieu are often faced with radically different surroundings to which they have to adapt. This essay attempts to document the experiences ofrural migrantwomen as they confront their new urban environment-physical, social, economic, cultural and ecological. In particular, it focuses on personal narrations of their experiences ofliving in a squattersettlement in the capital city ofDelh'i. Narrations of this type offer deep insights into people's thinking and lives. They are able to capture the subtle nuances ofthinking and behaviour which are missed in statistical figures. For instance, a statistical survey to investigate rural migrant women's physical and emotional reactions ta their urban surroundings would not be able to capture the various patriarchal attitudes that underlie women's thinking and behaviour and have become an integral part oftheir mental make-up. Such attitudes are only revealed when women are left to talk at length through unstructured narrations. Similarly, the intensity of the stress women feel in their changed ecological surroundings and their struggle for survival in a situation where life seems to get confined to a cease1ess effort to gain access to basic minimum amenities would be lost in a statistical survey. Such information and insights can only be gained from keen observation and continuous dialogue with the protagonists of the research over a considerable period of time. Such an approach is particularly necessary when conducting research amongst women in a squatter settlement because of the 'culture of silence' and unobtrusiveness to which they are expected to conform. For girls and youngwomen, and to a large ext~ntevenolderwomen, talking too much or 30 SARASWATI BAlDER flaunting themselves is considered improper behaviour-bold, brash and brazen. Girls are trained and socialized to do the work ordained for them, without asking questions or making protests. Most rural migrant women living in Rajpur,2 the squatter settlement in Delhi where 1conducted my research, are a quiet lot and many ofthem are submerged in the 'culture of silence'.3 To get them to speak about their personal feelings, thoughts and opinions was a difficult task. 1 wanted to avoid what is called an 'interview', with the researcher merely asking questions and the 'interviewee' providing answers often mechanicaIly and souIlessly. 1 was keen for a more involved engagement: to initiate a dialogue with my protagonists. But here my efforts were often thwarted, partly owing to the impenetrability and impassivity of rural migrant women, and partly due to the context ofour encounter. 1was a stranger ta these women, coming from a different class, and these factors undoubtedly increased the communication gap, making it doubly problematic for the women to participate in a dialogue with me. Furthermore, 1 was often mistaken initially for someone from the government towards whose personnel the squatter settlement dweIlers have much antipathy. On the whole, using the mixed technique of dialogue and minimal questioning 1 was able to gain meaningful insights into women's personal, social and cultural lives in Rajpur: their sense of claustrophobia at being trapped in a heavily congested squatter settlement; their monotanous daily work in the effort to access basic minimum needs, especially water; their unending endeavour ta make two ends meet somehow; their nagging fear that their hutment might be demolished at any time making them live in constant anxiety and insecurity; their curtailed freedom ofmovement; their muting; their reflections on their lives in an urban city-often only echoes ofinformation given by their spouse; their almost non-existent relationships with their husbands; their alienation from the larger urban social and cultural milieu, aIl ofwhich emerge fairly telIingly from the narratives ofthe women of Rajpur. However, it must be stressed that if1 have been able to elicit expressive, articulate narratives l'rom mv protagonists il is, 1 think, only because of the long time 1 have spcnt i11leradîng with them-more than four years-over which time easy rapport eventually became established. Over this long period of association many women have been able to shed at least sorne of their inhibitions and overcome their inilial suspicion of me. Today they view me not so much as a stranger, than as an elderly woman, who likes chatting Wilh them and means them no harm.

THE SETTING Squatter settlements are 10caIly known as jhuggi-jhonpri (hutment) clusters or colonies cn clusters/colonies). Most inhabitants of these squatter settlements are rural migrants from aIl over India, especiaIly the northcrn and eastern states. Squatter settlements in Delhi are proliferating at ~\ r~}Jid MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERJENCE 31 rate, from 929lJ clusters in 19904 with a population of about 1.5 million" to 10S0 in 1994 with a population ofabout 2.7 million and 1100 in 1997 with a population estimated at more than 3 million6-in other words almost one­ third of the population of Delhi. With rural poverty aggravated following the introduction ofeconomic reforms in India in 1991 and the accompanying curtailment in public expenditures in rural employment generation programmes, it is estimated that the number oflJ clusters must have gone up further by now. 7 lJ clusters are spread ail over Delhi. It is not unusual to find squatters' huts next to modern high-rise buildings or five-star hotels or in the nooks and crevices ofthe posh colonies ofDelhi. As most of thelJ clusters are to be found on iIIegally occupied land theyare unauthorized but the authorities are indecisive about what should be done with them. Because squatters live within a continuing sense of impermanence owing to the threat of demo­ lition, their jhuggis are often makeshift dwellings of bricks and mud with thatched or tin roofs covered with polythene, or corrugated iron sheets. The jhuggis are very closely packed and if viewed from above the cluster looks like a beehive interspersed with very narrow alleys in a maze. SOllle more daring jhuggi dwellers have taken the risk of constructing permanent dwellings despite the insecurity. However, these homes are still very small and congested, housing more people than health norms permit. lJ clusters always look dingy, drab and dreary-like grey patchwork quilts seen from above with a permanent smoke-filled haze hovering over them. This appearance lends them a peculiar air of mystery and they are looked on by middle-class city dwellers as ominous and dangerous places full of hidden vices. MostlJ clusters have a vacant piece ofland next to them which serves as an open-air latrine. Sometimes they are located near stagnant ponds or along river beds..Uclusters are orteil pcrvaded by a mixcd odour ofIllildew, cooking food and stale clothes and tend to look damp, dark and derelict. Working in Rajpur, visiting otherlJ clllsters and reading about squatter settlements in other devPloping countries, 1 get the impre'i,jon ri"., urban poverty in India is perhaps more dehnmaniœd and dchum:mi7ill~ than in OTher similar countries, lt i,~ unimaginable evcn 10 lll;lny Ind;an... uniess they see for themselves the squalid conditions in which the.U dwellers live. ~jpur is a large, unauthorized, illcgally occnpied settlement in Delhi. with d density of about 1,6 persons per sq. m. Sinratcd on a hilloek ')Il lanrl allotted to a government agency, it ls surronnded by rcsidcntial buildings functioning as slllall-scale manllfaeturing units. According ta an unpnblished suney by the SIum and.lJ Wing of the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) in 1990 the cluster had a total of270S jhuggïswith a population estimated at approximately ] 2,000. However in a more recent conversation with one of the active pradhanf ofRajpur 1 was told that the number ofjhuggis is about 3,500 and the population approximately 16,000. R~jpur has a large population ofScheduled Castes whieh COJ;lstitute about 75 per cent of the settlement. The majority ofinhabitants are from the state of Uttar Pradesh (62 per cent) with much smaller numbers from Bihar, 32 SARASWATI HAIDER

Rajasthan and Haryana. There are about 150-200 Muslim households, 1 Sikh household and the rest are Hindu. Men outnumber women in Rajpur where 58 per cent of the population is male. Illiteracy is high at 52 per cent and of the so-called literates, 36 per cent had studied only up to the primary level. About 83 per cent of the population have a monthly incarne ofRs. 1000 or below. In other words the majority offamilies live below the official poverty line. The Rajpur population is young, most inhabitants being between the ages of 18 and 45. According to 1990 statistics, 13 per cent of males were unskilled workers, 13 per cent had their own businesses and were self­ employed owning small shops or buying and sellingjunk, 30 per cent were in servicejobs and as many as 37 per centwere unemployed. Only 7 per cent were skilled workers. The employment data for women was not collected, but most Rajpur women are housewives. Most of the inhabitants (94 per cent) had came to Rajpur during the period 1977-85 and the majority are first generation migrants.

MIGRATION TO THE METROPOLIS: NOT A WOMAN'S DECISION As far as Rajpur migrants are concerned, the decision to migrate to Delhi had, with few exceptions, been taken by the men of the household in consultation, and, after discussion, with the senior male members of the larger family unit. Shanno, a Berwa (a Scheduled Caste employed in Delhi mainly as construction workers), whose husband hails from a village in the Jaipur district of and who, like most Rajpur women, is illiterate, said: ln the village people Iike us who have no land do agricultural labour. My man's9 family had sorne land. But very little-about 2 bighas [a bigha is about one quarter of an acre]. There was not much money in agricuIturallabour. That is why we came to Dilli [Delhi]. One of my man's relations told him that there were good prospects andjobs in construction work in Dilli. He worked and Iived in Dilli. He told my man to come to Dilli also. My man wanted to move to Dilli very much after that. There were in aIl eight brothers and sisters: six brothers including my man who was the third eldest in the family. The land they owned was too smaIl to be distributed among aIl the brothers [the sisters were not considered]. My man's father was dead. His mother was alive. We aIllived together. AIl the brothers agreed that my man should move to Dilli and send them sorne money from there when he had got good work. 1 had no say in the matter. Women are not supposed to tang adao [obstruct] in these things. But my man had no money to move to Dilli. My man had decided to take me with him as he thought we could both work as construction workers in Dilli. We worked very hard ta save enough money and then finaIly came to Dilli. Most men ofRajpur had been marginal farmers with smalliandhoidings or agricultural labourers, before coming to Delhi. As already noted, the decision to move to Delhi was normally finalized by men. However, occasionally a woman instigates her husband to leave his home in the village MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 33 and move to a city in order to lead a separate life of his own, get his full share of earnings and have full control over his finances. This is what happened in Chanda's case. Chanda, a Bawar (a Scheduled Caste claiming descendence from Brahmins) cornes from a village in the district of Ballia in Uttar Pradesh (her husband's village):IO

My man was the youngest among his four brothers and three sisters. We had no land. Ail who could, worked as field labourers. We got earnings just enough to wipe our tears with: 20 rupees for me and 30 rupees for my man per day of work. Ali our money was given to my man's father and we had very Iittle to eat. We were like birds thrown sorne grain; we had no money to spend on anything but food. My two older children were very small then. 50, when my sister's nandoi [husband's sisler's husband] happened to visit our village and told me about how in Dilli everyone can gel a job and live much better 1 got after my man to shift to Dilli. My man is very simple and silent. He can never speak up for himself so 1 had to break the news to the family. Finally, they talked it over. My man's father and brothers did not like the idea. They would lose two workers and earners. But 1 got after my man. Ultimately my man, myself and two children came to Dilli and to R":.ipur. 1 borrowed money from my brother. We stayed with my sister's nandoi at first though it was wrong for us to do so because wife-givers do not stay at the house of any one belonging to the family of wife-takers. But what could 1 do? 1 also look sorne money on loan from my sister's nandoi and purchased land for a jhuggi.11 It cost me Rs. 2000. We built a flimsy jhuggi which cost me another Rs. 1000. But my fate is bad. Two years back our jhuggi got burnt down in a fire. Most Rajpur migrants took their decision to move out of their villages on information given aboutgood prospectsin the metropolis by sorne relative or someone from the village who had settled in Delhi. The male migrant initially stayed with his relative, or, the man from his village who had enticed him to come to Delhi and with whom the migrant may have a fictitious kinship relationship.12 Usually, the wifejustfollowed the husband-itnot even being considered necessary to ask her if she wanted to migrate. Wherever her husband took her, was where she was meant ta be. Most female migrants had followed this trajectory. Their interface with the urban milieu occurred because of their husband's decision to migrate and not through their own free will­ something women are not supposed to possess.

INTERFACE WITH THE URBAN ENVIRONMENT OF RAJPUR Wirth in his well-known theory of urbanism identified three demographic clements which play an important raie in the emergence ofa distinct urban mode of life: the large size of population, density of population and its heterogeneity.13 The women who migrated to Rajpur had their first experience ofurban living amidstlarge numbers ofpeople when they arrived in the sIum. They were forced to live in close proximity to other human beings, cheek byjowl. The women were used to having open spaces around 34 SARASWATI HAIDER their villages; but such open spaces are nowhere to be found in a squatter se ttlement. Maya, an illiterate housewife, aJatav by caste (Jatavs are a sub-caste of the Chamar caste whose traditional occupation was preparing and curing leather) from the district in Uttar Pradesh, recounts her first introduction to Delhi. Her experience was similar to that of most Rajpur women as were the health problems she encountered.

1 was so frightened at the Dilli station when 1 stepped out of the mil ka dibba [train box, i.e. compartment] by ail the people milling around me. As it is 1was feeling sick because of the train journey. 1 had never tra'\Clled by rail. My heart was clutched by the hand of fear. On seeing the crowd at Dilli station, it beat like a drum. 1 was sure 1would get lost. 1was petrified. My man was hurrying far ahead while 1 ran following him far behind. 1 had no children otherwise it would have been difficult ta keep them with me while running to keep abreast of my man. 'When 1 came to Rajpur 1 was stunned. There were such small huts: hundreds ofthemall built so close together. Even now, al'ter so many years, every time 1 change clothes or have a bath in the jhuggi 1 feel everyone can see me. 1 still do not know who lives beyond the six or seven jhuggis that encircle mine. 1 felt breathless ail the time and giddy and still do. There are no trees and one can see what is happening in other people's jhuggis. My neighbour's man beats her every other day and she shouts at the top ofher voice. 1 get paralysed when 1 hear her. My man beats me too but not so badJy. Most of our time we spend outside ourjhuggissitting on the threshold. One cannot hide anything here. 1 oft~n remember the trees and greenery in the village and the clean air. Here the air is always filled with a bad smell and is stale. There is a stink here ail the time. People are always quarrelling here. This whole place is like a chicken pen.

INTERFACE WITH BASIC URBAN SERVICES Dclhi's population is growing at a very fast rate every year though the growth rate has declined in the decade 1981-91. 14 The basic urban services required to fulfil the needs of the burgeoning population are in very short supply, weil below the minimum requirement. Not surprisingly, basic amenities are better provided in areas where the rich live 15 while the worst provision is found in 1J clusters. However, the squatters of Delhi form important and sizeable 'vote-banks' whose votes can make or mar the career of a Delhi politician.1J clusters in Delhi are hotbeds ofpolitics. 16 And in such a context, the politics is largely a politics ofbasic amenities. In this section, 1 shall deal with the experience ofmigrantwomen vis-à-vis sorne ofthe essential amenities of daily life.

The Impennanence ofJhuggis-A Constant Source ofInsecurity The most harrowing anxiety of migrant women in Rajpur relates to the impermanence of their dwellings-theirjhu~sincethe authorities remain undecided about the 'sium problem'.17 Every now and then the rumour goes around that the Rajpur1J cluster is to be demolished. MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 35

Says Sherbati, a woman from the district ofAzamgarh in Uttar Pradesh whose husband works as a sweeper in the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD): The worst aspect of living in DHIi for me is that we are not sure when the masheen [bulldozer] will come and erase our assiduously and painstakingly constructed jhuggis in which our earnings of thick blood and sweat have been invested; so much time and labour. We are never sure whether we will be here tomorrow or not. Every two m<;>nths the news goes around that the II c1uster is to be demolished and we live in fear for several days. My heart is always troubled because of the anxiety about the fate of our jhuggis. Our Iife here is full of insecurity. Ourjoy and peace have gone. 1 do not know why they do not decide once and for ail whether the Rajpur c1uster is to be demolished or not. The pradhans also do not know whether the c1uster is to be demolished. This hanging in mid-air is killing. In our village we had a makeshift hut but at least we knew it would keep standing. Our hut in the village could have been demolished by high-up people there but we did notlive in constant fear that it could be demolished any time. My man's family tills the one bigha of land that we have in the village. My man's only brother wanted to buy our share of it but we did not sell. Life in Dilli is so uncertain. One does not know where we will be one day from another. Our land in the village is Iike a guarantee of a living space for us in our village, if nowhere else. Kalavati, a woman ofabout 55 years is a Chamar from the Ballia district in Uttar Pradesh. Her husband has a pan-bidi shop' (tobacco and pan staIl) in theirjhuggi from where only Chamars make their purchases. She told me: 1 have been living in this cluster for a very long time and never have we had the certainty that our jhuggi will not be demolished. If they have let us live here for so many years, then why can't they let us live here permanently instead of playing cat and mouse with us? Our condition is like that of the snake and the mongoose: the snake can neither swallow it nor spit it out. This anxiety is Iike a mouse nibbling at a bag of flour and has eaten away my peace. At least in the village we were sure of a dwelling place. The neta log [political figures] come at election time and promise that they will not let our jhuggis be demolished-so my man tells me. My man says they promise to give us official papers for our jhuggis but nothing of the sort has been done for so many years. The neta log keep coming and going. My man says these neta log are ail thieves. People from here are taken in bus loads--<:ven children-to rallies organized by neta log to stop our jhuggis from being demolished; but my man says that this is ail a sham and show. We remain where we are.

Shortage of Water: The Bane ofMigrant Women 's Lives Almost aB women in Rajpur complained about the shortage of water and about how their whole day seemed to go coBecting and storing water for drinking, cooking and other purposes. Women's lives seemed to revolve around this one basic problem for which theyare the ones who have to bear the brunt. 18 Phulwati is a cleaner in a manufacLUring unit situated opposite the cluster. She is a Balmiki (sweeper caste) from a village in the district of Sawai Madhopur in Rajasthan. 36 SARASWATI HAlDER

One's whole day goes worrying whether one will have water for the day or not. My jhuggi, as you can see, is on the upper side of the hillock so that water has to be brought up can bycan [usually plastic cans in which automotive lubricant is solel] for drinking and cooking. My children are ail small except one but he goes to schoo1. My man goes out to work at 9 in the morning and does not return till 7 in the evening. 1 too work for three hours in the morning. 1 have the chore ofgoing down from myjhuggi and climbing back up with a full can ofwater. 1 have to do this four or five times to procure enough water for the day for cooking and drinking. My man has his bath at the handpump and he or 1 bathe the children there too. We can't do it daily but we do it every three or four days. But how can 1 bathe at the handpump? The handpump which is close to my jhuggi has been out oforder for the past whole year. No one has come to repair il. The other handpump is quite a distance away. When 1wish to bathe 1 have to fetch water from the handpump and bathe inside the jhuggi. 1 can't bathe everyday because it requires so much extra work. It is ail a lot of hard work and trouble. We do not drink water from the handpump but from the tap; yet ail of us are always falling ill. Everyone told me that water from the handpump was not good to drink or cook with. The water problem is bad in Rajpur but it is especially tough for people like me-and there are many in the same position­ those who live at the top ofthe hillock. In other families older boys bring water up by cycle. But 1 can't do that. In our village we had a weil of our own and we could fetch water from it whenever we wanted. It was close to ail our huts because it was a weil meant only for us and not the high caste people. Here one has to keep waiting with one's heart a flutter for the water to come out of the taps. There is no fixed time when the water cornes and sometimes the water does not come at aIl. 1 had thought that in a big city Iike DiIli, at least, there would be enough water for us but getting water here seems to be more difficult than it was in my village. The whole day here seems to go in fetching water. Chanda, the tea shop owner bemoans:

1 run this tea shop. How can 1 wait endlessly in a long line to fill water? My eldest child, who is a boy, goes far away to study in . He is not around in the c1uster in the mornings and my daughter is not old enough to fetch heavy cans of water. Besides, one should not let young girls do heavy work. They may hurt themselves badly. Then who will marry them? We will then have a bigger problem on our head. My man goes to fetch water in the morning and we keep it here at the shop. But my man takes a long time because he cannot quarrel with the women who are ail Iike hyenas at the tap when the water cornes. There are often bad quarrels at the tap. My son gets water in the evening for me. He can fight. 1 don't live very far from the tap so it is not as bad as it is for the others. Water, 1 think, is the main problem in Rajpur. After ail one cannot live without water. 1remember that the problem ofwater supply became a hot issue in one election.19 The pradhan of Rajpur, Badlu, who is very wily, bargained for water pipes for the c1uster with ail the candidates. The candidates were aware that Rajpur had elected Badlu as leader. 1 heard someone here say that the candidates thought that the votes in Rajpur were ail in the hands ofBadlu. It was said that Badlu assured the candidates of ail parties that the people behind him would vote for the candidate who would provide water pipes. One of the candidates--he was called Netaji (and when 1 saw him here in front of my shop, 1 thought he looked Iike a hairy bear)-was said to have spent at least one million rupees on the election. It was he who ordered pipes for 15,000 rupees to be delivered to the cluster. Do you know, Auntr.ii,20 those pipes MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 37

came within two hours. 1saw it with my own eyes. But do you know1 heard people say here at my shop that Badlu had made a pile of money after bargaining. The pipes justlay around for almost a year and then they were instaIled but they have not made much difference to the scarcity of water. In the viIlage we had weIls from which we could fetch water at any time. At least one was free from the anxiety whether there would be water or not. And in our village there was a pond where we bathed and washed our c10thes whenever we wanted. Here it is impossible to bathe and wash c10thes everyday. 1 have no time. My daughter washes the c1othes. It is the women who have to do aH the hard work offetching water. At least my man helps. He is very simple you see. Other women's men do not help.

Sanitation: Too Much Other Work So Civic Cleanliness Neglected The road in front of Rajpur is a dirt track and is always slushy with the overflowing dirty water ofthe open drains from inside the cluster. These pour into the open drains on the sides ofthe road but since these are always blocked, the water flows on to the road. Ali squatter settlements are unhygienic. Rajpur is no different. There are open drains full of muck and children's faeces with small piles ofgarbage alongside, although the narrow alleys have, at least, been paved by the authorities. It is women who are supposed to take care ofcleanliness in the jhuggis and around them because this is considered women's work. Men never do il. Men never do any housework as long as there is a woman to do it. If they did housework when their wives were around,they would be ridiculed as their wife's lackey which would be an insult to their masculinity. Reproduced below is a conversation 1 had wi th Ramia, a woman ofthe Yadav caste (milkherds by tradition) from a village in Samastipur in the state of Bihar. Ramia's husband works in a manufacturing unit that makes polythene bags. Ramia's thinking and her day are more or less typical of the migrant women in Rajpur in general. Saraswati Haider (SH): Ramia, is it difficuIt to c1ean the jhuggi every day? Ramia (R): No. It is not difficult. 1 c1ean my jhuggi everyday. 1 have three young children. The youngest is two years old. He dirties the jhuggi very much. He urinates and sometimes defecates inside the jhuggi also 50 1 have ta. c1ean the jhuggi everyday otherwise my man would be very angry. It is not difficuIt. Not more than itwas in the vil1age where 1 had to c1ean the cow-shed, c1ean the house and apply cow dung to the floor and sides of the cooking area [cow dung is used as a c1eansing agent]. 1 had to sweep our two rooms. 1 did aH the work in the house of my man's family which included his father and mother, a young sister, an eIder brotherand his wife and two younger brothers. Since 1 was the youngest daughter-in-Iaw 1 had to do the major part of the housework. SH: But 1 see that you dump the garbage just outside your jhuggi. 15 it toomuch trouble to walk to the refuse dump? [There are three dumps constructed by the MCD at the side of the dirt road at the base of the c1uster which are supposed to be c1eaned by MCD sweepers everyday but apparently are not because 1 have always seen them overflowing with garbage and spreading a horrible smeH aH around.]

R: Yes it is. 1 have 50 much ta do everyday. 1 get up at about 4 in the morning, make rotis and vegetables. My e1dest daughter, who is II or 12 years old, helps me make 38 SARASWATI HAIDER the food. She studied up to Class VI but after that my man stopped her going to school. It was the right thing to do because 1 needed her to heJp me in the house. Besides, she has learnt how to read and write. That is enough for a girl. After ail what will she do with too much education? We have to marry her soon and then she will only be doing housework and looking after children. She doesn't need high education for that. She needs to be trained to do housework and look after children so 1 make her help me in the house. SH: Do you feed the children in the morning? You must be giving them milk to drink? R: From where do 1 have money to give my children milk? 1 buy a kilo of milk for Rs. 15. 1give halfofit to my youngest child during the day and the l'est 1use to make tea. My man has tea in the morning and in the evening when he cornes back from work. My older children-my two daughters, also drink tea and have something to eat in the morning. My second daughter goes to the Municipal Corporation school here in Rajpur. She is in c1ass IV. 1 have to get her ready. She leaves at about 7:30 in the morning. She walks to the school which is close by. SH: You must be fetching water after that. R: No. 1 then c1ean the jhuggi with my daughter helping me. 1 put away all the bed c1othes, sweep the floor and c1ean the cooking area. SH: And you dump the garbage outside the jhuggi. R: Yeso 1 don't have time to walk down to the dump to throw the garbage and 1 can't send my daughter down alone. One has to guard a daughter very c1osely. So, 1 keep the garbage in front of the jhuggi. All ofus in the alley here pay 10 rupees pel' month to a sweeper woman to c1ean the alley and the drains and throw the garbage in the dump. The government sweepers don't bother to c1ean the alleys. They only c1ean the dirt road in front of the c1uster and they don't even do that everyday. About five women come and 1 always see them sitting, chatting and smoking bidis. They do no work. Leela, the sweeper, is Jazy and doesn't come everyday to c1ean the drains and alley litter. We shout at her but it has no effect. And, when she c1eans the drains she just dumps the muck by the side of the drain and does not go to throw it in the dump. She says she needs a barrow to take aIl the garbage to the dump. How can we buy an expensive barrow and give it to her?

SH: 1 see that Y0uf children defecate in the drain. R: Not aIl. Just my youngest one. Where else can he defecate? He just sits wherever he likes and defecates. AIl children do that. SH: Where do your other children defecate? Don't you use the government latrines? [The authorities have built pourflush latrines with the help ofthe organization, Sulabh International. There are in aIl 200 latrines: 80 for women and 120 for men. The men have to pay 50 paise every time they use the latrines. The women and children don't have to pay anything. The latrines have been built in two blocks on one side of the c1uster.] R: The other children defecate in the open on the main road. 1 have to accompany them because they are both girls. We don't use the government latrines because they are too far away on the other side ofthe cluster; If they were nearer perhaps we could MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 39 use them. The women who live near the latrines use them and also the children. The girls are accompanied by their mothers. Sorne are not. But l am very careful about my girls. The men, however, use the government latrines. But my man prefers to defecate on vacant land on the other side ofthe duster near the government latrines and so do many other men. One doesn't have to pay 50 paise then.

SH: Where do you defecate?

R: That is why l get up at 4 in the morning and, even earlier in summer, and go to defecate while it is still dark on the main road next to my jhuggi. For the last four months, sorne mobile latrines have been brought here by the government. l use them sometimes. But generally, theyare never dean. The government sweepers who are supposed to dean them do not do it often enough. When the latrines are too dirty l have no option but to squat on the road.

SH: And suppose your stomach is upset?

R: My oh my, then it is a problem. l have to hunt for sorne private place. It is agony. If l don't find a private place then l use the government mobile latrines no matter how filthy they are. What else can l do?

SH: ~en do you find time to store water?

R: l go down to the tap-the taps are ail at the bottom of the duster-at about 10 o'dock. l don't have a watch; so l just go by intuition. l sit at the tap in line, waiting for the water to come. Most women sit in groups and chat. l chat sometimes about this and that but usually l do not talk to the women. My man does not like me to chat with them because most of them are low caste people and untouchables. We are not untouchables. We are of a high caste. Lord Krishna was from our caste.

SH: When do you finish storing water?

R: l stop when it is time for my man to come home to eat. His factory [the small manufacturing unit where her husband works] is close by. My daughter meanwhile prepares sorne dal [pulses] and washes ail the utensils. My man eats the roti and vegetable of the morning and the da!. He wants fresh food to be cooked every time he eats. But how can l cook fresh food three times a day? l don't have the money. My second daughter cornes back from school a little l..ter than my man. He has usually leftfor the factory when she cornes. Then she and my eldest daughter eat. l then give sorne dal with mashed roti to my little one and feed him breast milk. It is only then that l get time to eat. When we have ail eaten l sometimes bathe my daughters and my little son in the jhuggi. l don't bathe my daughters at the handpump. After ail they are girls. If there is water left over, then l bathe. My children and l don't bathe every day. My daughters and l don'tbathe in the bathrooms made by the government. Most women don't. They like to bathe in the privacy of their jhuggis. [The MCD has built 48 bathrooms where water is available ail 24 hours from a tubewel!. Twenty-four bathrooms are for women and 24 for men.]

SH: Don't you have any spare time in the day?

R: Not often because most of the time l have to go to the handpump to wash clothes. Sometimes after ail the chores are done then l sit on the threshold of my jhuggi and chit chat with other women who also sit on their thresholds till it is time to fill water again. Then down to the tap l go. By the time l finish this, it is time for my man to 40 SARASWATI HAIDER come home. Before he cornes back 1quickly c1ean up the jhuggi once again with the help of my daughter. My man cornes, smokes a bidi-he smokes about 30 bidis everyday-then he goes to bathe at the handpump. He bathes everyday. After he has bathed he goes out to meet his relations here or have a chat with the other men at a tea shop and my daughter and 1 get down to cooking rice which we can eat in the evening with the dal cooked in the afternoon. My man drinks everyday. He cornes back late only after he has had his alcohol. He is usually in a fouI mood then. If something is wrong in the jhuggi he shouts and screams at me. He also beats me sometimes. SH: Don't you feel bad when he beats you? R: What is there to feel bad about? It happens so often that it has become part of my life. 1don't say anything. What can 1say? My man has his food when he cornes home. He always complains that1am lazy and give him stale food to eat, but, how can 1cook fresh food every time he eats? He gives me so little money and he spends so much on his bidis and alcohol. But if! say this, he will probably throw me out ofthe house. So 1 keep quiet. SH: When do you sleep? R: 1 sleep late at night after every one has gone to bed. After our meal my daughter and 1 wash the utensils. Before 1 eat, 1 feed my little one sorne rice and dal. 1 breast feed him again when 1 lie down to sleep with him at my side. He doesn't sleep until· 1 breast feed him. It is only after my child goes to sleep that 1 sleep. Mostwomen's lives in Rajpur follow almost the same pattern as Ramia's. They are atwork the whole day washing, cleaning, fetching water and cooking. It is even more difficult for those who combine this work with a job.

Urban Health Services: An Unsatisfactory Experience One ofthe advantages ofbeing in a big cityis thatit has better health facilities than rural areas. In Rajpur free health services are available at the government dispensary but the dispensary is about 2 km away from theII cluster ofRajpur and, like ail government dispensaries, is under-staffed and medicines are almost always unavailable. Champa is the wife of a Dhobi (traditionally, a caste of washermen) named Charan, who irons clothes on a big table in front ofhisjhuggi. Charan cornes from a village in theJaipur district of Rajasthan. Champa says: We never go to the government dispensary. It is too far away and one has to wait for ages in a long line. That is what my man told me. Besides 1cannot go to the dispensary on my own. 1 have never stepped out ofRajpur alone. My man does not even like me to go far away from our jhuggi. My man went to the dispensary once when he was ill. He went early in the morning and did not come back untillate afternoon. There was only one doctor there. My man told me he was very young. If he was so young, how could he know medicine weil? The medicine required was not available so my man had to buy it from a shop. It cast him 70 rupees and he did not even get weil after that. He then went to Dr. Srivastava in the c1uster who cured him. He took only 30 rupees and gave the medicines himself. Now, whenever the children are ill, my MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 41 man takes them to Dr Srivastava. He lives near by and is good. Our time is saved and we get weil too. There are about 25 private doctors in Rajpur, however, only one ofthem is qualified in allopathie medicine. Dr Srivastava is one of about 24 doctors who practise Ayurvedic medicine but whose qualifications are sometimes dubious. Says Shanno:

Once 1 went to Kiran to show myself. There, they examine you free and give you medicine without charging anything but they put such a huge needle in my arm and removed so much blood that 1 almost fainted. 1 screamed and cried. They took so much blood that 1 felt weak and got back home with great difficulty. 1 felt weak for two whole days. 1 will never go back there. 1 now go to Dr Ramesh. He is good. He is here in Rajpur and gives a small injection and one recovers. He chargçs 20 rupees but at least he doesn't take blood in such a painful way as the doctors at Kiran do. Chanda, the tea shop owner, said 'The medicines given by Kiran never work. They are given free so they cannot be good.' The migrant men and women have apparently come to believe that nothing good cornes free. If you want something of good quality you have to pay for it. Kiran is a non­ governmental organization working in Rajpur providing primarily education. The AlI India Institute ofMedical Sciences (AIIMS) in Delhi has a permanent clinic on the Kiran premises. There is one doctor, one supervisor and one technician who does blood tests and refers patients when necessary to clinics. For more sophisticated tests and treatrnents, they refer the people ofRajpur to AIIMS. However, the migrantwomen in Rajpur do not seem to appreciate the good work being done by the clinic. Says Nasreen, a Muslim woman who cornes from a village in the district of Uttar Pradesh and is the wife ofAhmad Khan, a junk dealer: Once when rny child was iII he [her husband] took him to Kiran. They asked him to take the child to the hospital. We were very frightened. One only goes to hospital when one is very seriously iII and ail medicines fail. It is said that ifonce you go to the hospital you seldom come back. The hospital was also very far away. If the child was going to stay in the hospital who would stay with him? My husband [ can use the term 'rny husband' though not their husbands' narnes] then decided to take the child to Dr Hari. Dr Hari examined the child and gave medicine but the child did not get weil. Then rny husband took him to a doctor in Govindpuri who charged 50 rupees and gave medicines worth 60 rupees and the child recovered. However, he is iII again. We do not know what to do. May be we should get the child an amulet. Someone must have cast the evil eye on him.21 The migrant women of Rajpur have a firm belief in the evil eye and often blame someone for having cast the evil eye when their children fall ill. They feel that the effects of the evil eye eannot be cured by allopathie medicine but by tona totka (a form of exorcism) which only specialists who know jhad phoonk (literally shaking off and blowing off) can cure. These specialists, known as jhad phoonk wale, are found mainly in the villages. Sukhiya is a Kuril (a sub-caste of Chamars) whose husband is without work but does nothing about it. They come from a village in the Ghazipur 42 SARASWATI HAlDER district of Uttar Pradesh and have two children: a boy and a girl. Sukhiya works as a sorter ofcIoth cuttings.

Auntyji, the evil eye is very bad. 1always put a black spot on my younger child's cheek because he is extraordinarily healthy and fair and so can very easily becorne the target ofsomeone's evil eye. A black spot protects from the evil eye. Once my son feH very ill and foreign medicines couId not cure him. There is no jhad phoonk wala here so 1 told my husband that wc must go to our village where there is a very good jhad phoonk wala who performed sorne rites anç my son started getting better after l'le did that. Sometimes another person's soul can come and possess you or someone can do magic on you and you becorne very ill and don't recover. Then, onlyjhad phoonk can cure one. Many women recounted similar things. They spoke about jhad phoonk with more conviction than they did about doctors and allopathic medical treatments available in the city. Their urban experience ofmodern medicine which they mistrust and take with a considerable hesitancy has not shaken offtheir faith in the evil eye, possession by spirits, goddesses, andjhadphoonk.

INTENSIFICATION OF THE HOUSEWIFIZATION OF WOMEN IN RAJPUR Almost aIl migrant women in Rajpur worked as agricultural labourers in their native villages, either on the family's land or for other richer farmers or both. However, in Rajpur, they are not allowed by their husbands to work outside their own jhuggis as long as the husbands are earning, even if the latter earn only just enough ta provide the barest of minimum to feed the family. Saviti is the wife of Rambir, a Gujjar (buffalo breeders and sellers of buffalo milk, now often big landlords) who cornes from a village in the Samastipur district ofBihar. Rambir has two buffaloes and sells milk in Rajpur. Saviti says:

My man's family has 3 bighasofland in the village. During the sowing and harvesting season 1 used to help with work in the field. 1 also worked as an agriculturallabourer when the food and earnings from the land l'lere not enough. My man did not mind me working outside the house in the viHage but here, in Rajpur, he wants to keep me as a prisoner in the jhuggi. He does not want me to step out of the jhuggi. He only aHows me out to fetch water from the tap which is not far. 1don't even know what the other side of Rajpur is like. The earnings from milk sales are not enough and it would be helpful if! worked. One woman here works in a tailoring factory [garment sewing unit]. She told me she could get me a job in that factory. 1know tailoring. My husband l'las very angry when he heard about il. He said: 'As long as 1 am alive you should not have to work. 1 am the man. Itis myjob to earn. Your work is to look after the housework and children. Isn't that good enough for you? Why should you want to go gallivanting off to a factory to work?' Rani is the wife of Surju, a Chamar who works in a manufacturing unit which makes television parts. Rani is very good looking. She told me,

1 get very bored sitting at home. Till now, 1 have only one child and he goes ta MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 43 school. 1 toid my husband that 1wouid like to work. He got into a rage. He said: 'Vou want to go to work in order to show yourself off. Vou want other men to see you?' That was not correct but he is always saying that 1 want to play around with men. He aiso said that women of good families don't work. Ir is only low caste women who work. He said 1 was illi terate and did not know what the world was like. 1 would be easily fooled and was sure ta go astray since 1was very fickie. Soljust sit at home and chat with my women neighbours, like a bird trapped in a cage. The men, however, do not mind their women assisting them as shop­ keepers if the shop is situated within their own jhuggis or sorting out cioth cuttings at home as part ofa recycling trade. These activities are seen by the men as an extension ofwomen's housework because they are done inside the jhuggi. The domestication ofwomen and the 'tyranny ofthe household' are poignantly felt by the women ofRajpur. Their lives seem to have become more cloistered since their arrivai in Delhi. Life seems more dominated by housework than it was in the village. The men however often practice double standards. Ifthey drink or spend money on other expensive habits or do not work, they do not seem to mind their women working as cloth sorters in other people's jhugiis where other men are engaged in recycling work. But even in these cases, men do not allow their wives to leave Rajpur. Ali the shopping is done by men; ail the decisions are taken by men. The women only decide what rations are needed and what should be cooked. Without economic independence and self­ sufficiency the women are greatly handicapped and are compelled to become captives of men in their own homes- subordinated and exploited.

WOMEN'S PLACE IN THE SOCIAL STRUCTURE OF RAJPUR Rajpur not a Community but a Conclave ofChettos Heterogeneity was the third main characteristic of urban development identified by Wirth. 22 The inhabitants of Rajpur conform to this pattern, coming from different regions and castes. However, theyare homogeneous in one respect: theyare almost ail poor with the stigma of poverty attached to them-a stigma they find hard to get rid of even if they are able to amass great wealth. As 'the poor' theyare first and foremost segregated within the city of Delhi. Cities are almost always unequally and unfairly structured23 and the poor are generally confined to squatter settlements and irmer city siums. Perhaps the most significant divide in the city is the social stratification on the basis of wealth. However, wealth does not necessarily ensure integration into the 'culture ofthe rich'. The poor-become-rich may be able to find a home in an affluent area of the city but, in ail probability, they will not be able to participate in the social and culturallife of the area. In fact they are more likely to be ignored, alienated and possibly even ostracized. The Rajpur jhuggi dwellers, both men and women, are extremely conscious of their identity as 'the poor'-perhaps more than they were in theirvillageswhere caste identityseemed to matter more. The chasm between 44 SARASWATI HAIDER

the poor and the rich seems ta be wider in the city. Shanno echoes the sentiments ofmost Rajpur women when she argues: 'In this city it is the rich who rule the roost. This is a city of big people. We poor people are like dust to be trampied on.' Srimati, the wife ofShyamu, a Kachchi (vegetable growing caste) from a village in the district ofVaranasi in Uttar Pradesh said: 'No matter how rich we may become we will always remain POOf. It is a stain which cannot be washed away by money.' Here one is reminded of Oscar Lewis' observation that one may get rid ofpoverty butitis more difficult to get rid ofthe 'culture of poverty'.24 Lewis' concept of the 'culture of poverty' was much attacked, perhaps because the issue of poverty is so closely linked to the politics of poverty. However, the notion should not be so easily discarded. Ifthe 'culture of poverty' is effectively difficult for the poor to shrug off, one must not forget that many non-poor have a vested interest in keeping the poor where they are. The wealthy also consider the poor the 'dangerous class' .25 The Rajpur residents may be homogeneous as 'the poor' butthe squatter settlement is definitely not a melting pot but rather a house divided. It has not become a éommunity with a 'we' feeling. 2fi The Rajpur cluster is split into ghettos: regional ghettos and within these, caste ghettos and within these, kinship ghettos. There is, therefore, segregation within segregation. Of ail these ghettos the caste ghetto seems to matter most to Rajpur inhabitants when it cornes to the question of residence. Women seem to have adopted their caste prejudice from men although they seem less stringent in their attitudes. Shanti is the wife ofGopal who belongs to a village in the Mathuradistrict ofUttar Pradesh and is a Thakur (a high caste). Shanti's jhuggi is surrounded by a number ofJatav families (a sub-caste of the 'untouchable' Chamar:s) who are also from Mathura but she says:

He [her husband] does not like living here among these low caste people. He has forbidden me ever to enter their jhuggis or accept water or food from them. 1 have only two children-both boys. They both go to school, so 1 have quite a lot oftime at my disposai and often do not know what to do. Sometimes 1 cannot help but sit on my threshold and talk to the women living in the surrounding jhuggis but1 am always afraid he might see me. If he does he will beat me. He wants to move to a jhuggi in another part of Rajpur where better caste people live. But ideally, he would like ta live in an area where Thakurs or other upper castes from Mathura reside because there is a lot of difference between Thakurs from Mathura and Thakurs from other regions. He bought this jhuggi in a hurry because he could not find anywhere else to live. Now he regrets il.

Kin Orientation There are sorne cases where three generations of the same family are living in Rajpur. They live not in joint family set-ups but in separate households, each with their own cooking stoves. The Rajpur migrants are very much oriented towards their immediate kin. MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 45

Shiela is the wife of Bhulwa, a Kahar (a caste whose occupation was to cook food and wash utensils-a non-untouchable caste) from a village in theJaunpur district of Uttar Pradesh. Bhulwa runs a roadside eatingjoint. Says Shiela: My man's younger brother and one ofhis two sisters who stays with her father have their jhuggis close to ours. Both the eider brothers who also live here have children. So do 1: two daughters and two sons. My man visits his family everyday. However, we are never invited to have a meal with them. We also do not invite them for a meal. Somehow the clistom of having meals in the house of one's own relatives does not exist here. It is only on festivals that we have meals at his father's place. But then for the important festivals, we go to the vinage where my father-in-law's eider brother lives. At festivals when we have a meal at his father's we an contribute food. My man does not visit anyone else's jhuggi in Rajpur; not even those of people of our own caste and region. He may sometimes visit sorne people who are from our vinage and who are like relatives to us. The question ofmy man visiting people ofour caste from other regions or lower castes does not arise. My man does not do anything without taking advice from his father and eider brothers. The males of the family are very close to each other but not the women. 1 do not have a close relationship with anyof his family members, not even the womenfolk. 1 do whatever is expected of me as my man's wife and that's all. A migrant man who does not have his larger family in the Rajpur JJ cluster leads an isolated and 10ne1y lifewithout the supportofkin and without friends who are usually people from the migrant's village. Other friends are mere acquaintances and not much is expected of them. The Rajpur migrants seem to be trying to preserve their primary groups without becoming members of the secondary groups commonly found in . cities like trade unions, associations for different activities and societies of various kinds.27 When men do not become members ofsecondary groups, it is out ofthe question for their wives to do so. The migrants seem content in maintaining close relationships with their immediate kin or, at most, with their own caste mates from their native village or biradari (a group ofseparate lineages of the same caste spread over a number ofvillages). Telling me about the biradari, Champa, who is a Chamar by caste from a village in the Ballia district ofUttar Pradesh, and who is married to Laakhan, a tailor in a leather garment sewing unit said, 'The biradari is very strong and has very long hands. One can't dare go against the biradari.' AlI Rajpur migrants, especially the women, for whom strictures are tighter than for men, greatly fear the wrath of the biradari which acts as the collective conscience of the community.

Husband-Wife &lationships It is commonly believed that the affective ties between husband and wife tend to become stronger and closer in nuclear households like those found in Rajpur. But this does not appear to be the case in Rajpur. The couples live together but often seem to remain totally alienated from each 46 SARASWATI BAlDER other. Says Ramkali, who is the wife of Chandu, a Nai (barber caste) from the district ofAzamgarh who wants to open a barber's shop but has not yet managed it, My man only cornes home to eat and sleep in the jhuggi. Otherwise he is out ail the time. He does not like sitting alone with me or playing with his children. When he does speak to me it is either to order me to do something or to tell me what 1 have done wrong. He does not discuss any ofhis problems with me. He says women cannot understand men's problems. 1 always feel frightened that 1 may do something he doesn't Iike. He beats the children if they make the smallest mistake or are just a little bit naughty and he never fondles them. Actually even in the village men hardly speak to their wives. Never, in fact, in front of other people for it would give the impression that a man is paying too much attention to his wife. The man and his wife have very \ittle time alone. Conversation between them is minimal. The men and the women are also not supposed to show too much affection for their children. However, my man was not so angry ail the time in the village. Here his temper seems to have become very bad. He is always ready to scream and shout and beat me up. The migrant man, no doubt, faces many frustrations and humiliations as he tries to eke a living in an alien, hostile, impersonal urban milieu. These frustrations and humiliations fill him with bitterness and anger which he takes out on his wife who is there for him to subordinate and oppress,just as he himself is subordinated and oppressed by others. Wife beating is very widespread in Rajpur but what is surprising is the extent to which women seem to take it as natural behaviour and often even condone it. 28 It is not uncommon to hear women argue: 'My man beats me but he also loves me, so ifhe beatsme what does itmatter?' When 1asked Shannowhy she did not leave her husband when he beat her, she said, Leave my man because he beats me? AIl men beat their wives sorne time or other. If women were to leave their men because they beat them, then ail women would leave their men. They beat us when we have not done something they have told us to do. Sometimes we do not do the things they ask because they are bad. But most often they beai us because they know more about the worId than we do and we go off and do foo\ish things because we are ignorant. If a child does something you don't like, don't you beat him? But you would not throw him out of the house because he has not listened to you and the child would not leave the house just because he was beaten. So why should a woman leave her man ifhe beats her? He beats her because he is a man. That is how he shows that he is a man and that it is he who takes care of the family. Mostwomen in Rajpur are not aware that they are oppressed or perhaps are afraid ofrealizing the realitywhich would make their lives more miserable than they already are. This is not to say that women are unaffected by their oppression. However, the humiliation and bitterness do not result in revoit but in doing what their men àsk them to do. 1 have seen many a woman in Rajpur beat her children mercilessly with a face distorted in hate as if she were venting her suppressed anger and seething fury on her subordinate helpless mites. MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 47

CULTURAL LIFE IN RAJPUR Mostwomen ofRajpur have nevervisited the monuments, museums, cinemas and other cultural attractions of the city. They remain closeted in Rajpur and their main leisure activity seems ta be watching television. Many Rajpur inhabitants have second-hand black and white televisions. Those without them, watch television by sitting outside the jhuggis of others. Says Ganga, a Chamar whose husband is at presentwithout work, l love watchinglV. l don't have one myselfbut l watch it at my neighbour's. They are lower level Chamars than us so 1don't enter the jhuggi, because if my man found out that 1had, he would beat me, so 1 sit outside and watch. l love watching films though the lives ofthe people in them seem to be so different from ours. Our boys and girls do not go running around together and doing ail those shameful things that boys and girls do in films. Itwould give them a bad reputation ifthey did. 1 loved watching the Ramayana and the Mahabharata on lV. My man, however, does not Iike me watching lV. He thinks 1 shirk work to do il. Another entertainment that the people of Rajpur enjoy are the three , performed in the squatter setùement. These are enactments of the Ramcharitmanas or the story ofLord Rama. The Ramlilas are performed during the festival of Dussehra, a festival which celebrates Lord Rama's fight and victory over the evil Ravana, the Lord of Lanka who had kidnapped Sita, Rama's wife. No woman acts in the Ramlilas. Men perform bath male and female raies. Most women are, however, forbidden towatch the Ramlilas because these are usually performed after dinner late at night when women are expected ta stay inside. For the most important festivals of Holi and Deepawali almost ail migrants return ta their native villages. Ali important rites de passage are also performed in the village especially wedding ceremonies and gauna (when the bride leaves for her husband's house which may be a couple of years after the marriage or earlier depending on the age ofthe girl). Most migrants in Rajpur are of the firm belief that a girl should be safely ensconced in her husband's house before she starts menstruating. Sherbati says, 'It is better ta have marriage and gauna performed in the village. There, ail the relatives can assemble. We sing and dance and everyone enjoys themselves. Here not ail relatives would be able to come and it would not be so much fun.' The migrants ofRajpur make it a point ofattending the marriages and gauna of their relatives back in their villages and they usually also return ta mourn deaths. Just as the people ofRajpur do not seem to have a social or culturallife away fram their villages so it is with their religious life. They remain deeply attached to the village oftheir caste gods and, more often, goddesses. But no such shrines are present in Rajpur, though there are two temples of Hanuman and one temple of Rai Das. The people ofRajpur do notseem to go to any temples in Delhi except that ofthe goddess Durga at Kalkaji which is within walking distance ofRajpur. Whatever cultural practices the migrant 48 SARASWATI HAiDER women follow, they follow in their villages which they think of as homes, while the jhuggis in Rajpur are considered no more than places ofresidence.

CONCLUSION It is often assumed that life in major cities is less restrictive than life in small rural communities. However, the narratives ofthe women ofRajpur seem to suggest otherwise. In the context of a Delhi squatter settlement, women's lives seem to become increasingly confined and dependence on their men and acceptance of their fate reinforced. Life is dominated by the grind of performingdaily chores and the potential benefitofurban life remain outside their reach.

NOTES

1 would like to thank Véronique Dupont, Emma Tarlo and Denis Vidal for giving me the opportunity to write this paper and for their editorial observations and suggestions. 1 would also like to thank Taqui Haider for the continued encouragement, moral and intellectual sustenance that he has always provided.

1. Human Development Report, UNDP, New York, Oxford: OUP, 1997, p. 51. 2. Because of the sensitive nature ofdata collected on local politics the name of the squatter settlement and ail other names in the essay have been changed. 3. For an explanation and amplification of the concept of this 'culture ofsilence' see Paulo Freire, Pedagug;y ofthe Ofrpressed, Harmondsworth: Pelican Books, 1973; Paulo Freire, Cultural Action for Freedom, Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1974; Susan Gal, 'Between Speech and Silence: The Problematic ofResearch ofLanguage and Gender', in Genderat Crossroads ofKnowledge: Feminist Anthropology in the Post-modem Era. Maria di Leonardo (ed.), Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1991, pp. 175-293. 4. N. Sridharan, 'Indian Siums: Problems, Policies and Issues', in Housing the Urban Poor: Policy and Practiœ in Developing Countries, Brian C. Aldrich and Ranvinder S. Sandhu (eds), New Delhi: Vistaar Publications, pp. 385-400. 5. Voluntary Health Association of India, A Tale of Two Cities, New Delhi: Voluntary Health Association oflndia, 1993, p. 16. 6. The Times ofIndia, New Delhi, Thursday, 15 May 1997. 7. Abhijit Sen, 'Economie Reforms, Employment and Poverty: Trends and Options', Economie andPolitical Weekly, vol. XXXI, nos. 35, 36 and 37 Special, March 1996, pp. 2459-77. 8. The pradhan is the headman of a community. There are about 35 pradhans in Rajpur. The pradhans serve as vote-brokers for politicians at e1ection time and make various gains for themselves in the process. 9. Among orthodox Hindus it is considered disrespectful to speak one's husband's name. The women oforthodox upper castes tend to refer to their husband as 'he' or 'him' whilst lower castes use phrases like 'my man' or 'Bhim's father' (Bhim being the name of the child of the couple). 10. Among the mostly patriarchal, patrilineal, patrilocal communities in India once the woman is married she is absorbed into her husband's family and her husband's village cornes to he seen as her village rather than her natal village. Il. There is at present a brisk trade in jhuggis because ofthe paucity of land.Jhuggïs in Rajpur today can be purchased for anywhere between 10,000 to 15,000 rupees. 12. In a rural person's village ail residents of the village have, if not a blood relationship, fictitious kinship with each other, and are addressed by kinship terms. See Saraswati Haider. 'An Ethnographie Profile ofFamily Kinship among Eastern Uttar Pradesh Chamar Migrants MIGRANT WOMEN AND URBAN EXPERIENCE 49

in a Delhi Squatter Settlement', Guru NanakJournal 0/ Sociology, vol. 18, no. 2, Amritsar, October 1997, pp. 1-32. • 13. Louis Wirth, 'Urbanism as a Way ofLife', ..IOn Cities and Social Life, Louis Wirth Selected Papers, Chicago: Universil;y of Chicago Press, 1964, pp. 60-83. 14. See Véronique Dupont, 'Spatial and Demographic Growth of Delhi since 1947 and the Main Migration Flows', in this volume. 15. See Girish K. Misra and J. Sarma, Distribution and Differential Location 0/ Public Utilities in Urban Delhi, New Delhi: Centre for Urban Studies, Indian Institute ofPublic Administration, 1979; Voluntary Health Association of India, op. cil. 16. See Emma Tarlo in this volume. 17. See Saraswati Haider, 'Delhi SIums in the Season of Fresh Promises', Mainstream, vol. XXXVI, no. 8, 14 February 1998, New Delhi, pp. 27-9. 18. There are in Rajpur four sources of water supply. There are pipes of the main delivery system located at the base ofthe hillock on which Rajpur is situated. There are no taps but 12 floints of delivery which are incisions in the pipes to which plastic tubes have been attached which, when water does not come, lie on the ground submerged in filthy water pools. One such attempt at a tap serves about 290 families. The water cornes irregularly and never for more than six hours a day. People in Rajpur are aware that hand-pump water can be contaminated. They also say that the water drawn from the hand-pumps tastes fouI and is very salty. Thus they take water for drinking and cooking from the main supply taps. There is always a crowd, mostly comprising women and children, when the news goes around that water is coming from the taps. Often there are vicious quarrels. There are about 35 hand-pumps in the cluster, i.e. one hand-pump for approximately 100 families. The crowd is less at the hand-pumps but most of the hand-pumps are out of order. There are two tube-wells operated by an employee of the MCD. The dwellers of Rajpur have the same reservation about tube-weil water as they have about the hand­ pump water. The motor ofthe tube-wells is operated for three hours in the morning and three hours in the evening provided there is electricity which often is not there. Recently the MCD has started sending a tanker ofwater for Rajpur. There are, however, illegal taps in several jhuggis. 19. The Delhi Assembly elections of 6 November 1993. 20. In Delhi most old people are addressed as Auntyji or Uncleji now rather than by kinship terms which were used earlier. Ji is a suffix of respect. 21. For belief in the evil eye, see David F. Pocock, 'The Evil Eye', in Religion in lndia, T.N. Madan (ed.), Delhi: OUP, 1995, pp. 50-62. 22. Wirth, op. cil. 23. See Blair Badcock, Un/airly Structured Cities, Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1984. 24. Oscar Lewis, The Chiû1ren o/Sanchez, New York: Random House, 1963; Oscar Lewis, 'The Culture ofPoverty', Scientific American, 214(4),1996, pp. 19-25. 25. See Lydia Morris, Dangerous Classes: The Underclass and Social Citizenship, London and New York: Routledge, 1994; Beverley Skeggs, Formation o/Class and Gentler: Becoming Respectable, London: Sage Publications, 1997. 26. About the notion of 'we' feeling, see Robert Bierstadt, The Social Ortler, Bombay, New Delhi: Tata McGraw Hill Publishing Co., 1970, p. 2891. 27. On the notions of primary and secondary groups, see Bierstadt, op. cil., pp. 272-301. 28. See Saraswati Haider, 'Women's Oppression and Their Reaction in a ./huggi:Jhompri Cluster', paper presented at XX Ali-India Sociological Conference, Mangalore, 29­ 31 December 1993.

3

Welcome to History: A Resettlement Colony in the Making

EMMA TARLü

This essay is a response to a half-forgotten conversation heId sorne time in March 1997 in a resetùement colony, locally known as the Welcome. My assistant and 1had been working there on and offover a period of two years, talking with people about their pasts and building up a social and political history of the colony. Inevitably, many of the residents ofWelcome initially felt ill-equipped to act as local historians but once we explained thatwe were more interested in personal histories than official ones, most were both willing and able to rise to the challenge and, in narrating their pasts, simultaneously told us much about the history of the city. But occasionally, we encountered situations in which the gulf separating the researcher and the researched seemed unbridgeable. And so itwa'l on that March afternoon when we met a young university-educated man who asked us what we were doing in the colony. Try as we might to explain our project, this young man just would not understand. 'There is no point in coming here if you are interested in history', he told us. 'Welcome has no history. This place is nothing. If you want history then you must go to the Red Fort, or to Qutb Minar....' We spent no more than a few minutes with this young sceptic but 1 remember finding the encounter particularly frustrating. Whatdistinguished him from most other people of the colony was his high level of education and it was precisely this, which seemed to act as a total barrier to mutual understanding. This man knew what history was aIl about. He had read the books. He wanted to correct our error and ignorance by re-directing us to the 'real history' ofDelhi-the stuffofhistory books as he knew them. 1was in no mood for trying to explain recent developments in historical writing about India. The very idea of 'subaltern studies' seemed somehow farcical in the circumstances. This man had found confidence through education and who was 1 to tell him that his opinion was dated, that the intellectual climate had changed and that nowadays history was as much about people as about monuments and dates? 52 EMMA TARLO

This essay attempts to re-develop the argument 1 had tried so un­ successfully to put forward on that March afternoon-that a resettlement colony like Welcome is a useful window through which to explore recent historical events and, more particularly, how urban spaces like resettlement colonies are structured and re-structured through such events. The essay is located between two genres of academic discourse: the literature on urban deve10pment with its emphasis on the city as a product ofplanned-though not entirely contrallable-developmentand the literature on urban violence with its emphasis on how the urban landscape is scarred and reconfigured through violent and disruptive events. 1 ln the first discourse critical events like wars, riots and moments ofextreme political tension are either ignored or passed offas mere accidents ofhistory--outside the domain and concerns of urban planners. In the second discourse, the opposite tendency is the norm. Here so much emphasis is given to the event-which is usually the motivating factor for the study-that it becomes difficult to ..e1ate event to structure. Veena Das' attempt to locate the Sikh massacre of 1984 within the local fabric of life in the resettlement colony of SultanpurF and to demonstrate more generally how social structure cornes into being through events praves a notable exception, but even here our understanding is built primarily araund events (their build-up and aftermath) and it becomes difficult to relate the drama of the short-term to everyday life in the long­ term.3 Similarly, references to the demographic changes that followed the Hindu-Muslim violence of 1992 give us little basis for understanding how to place these changes either within individual life histories or within the development of urban space over time. ln this essay 1 argue that ifwe are to understand the socio-dynamics of space among the urban pOOl' we necd to develop an approach which .examines the re1ationship between structure and event, notjust at a given moment, but over time for urban spaces like resettlement colonies are structured as much through a succession of historical events at a national level as through local politics and urban planning. There are two main aspects to this. On the one hand, it is often historic events which create the political environmcnt in which urban plans become realities. On the other hand, . historie events often disfigure urban plans and this occurswith such regularity that in the final analysis it is tempting to perceive them less as impediments to urban development than as the hidden agents of urban development itself. It is this dynamic that 1want to explore through the life-histories and experiences of people resettled in the colony ofWelcome. The first halfof this chapter focuses on the birth of the colony, exploring the points of intersection where policy, location and event conjoined in its formation. The second half focuses on the restructuration of the colony by examining the raIe ofthree particular events, aIl ofwhich have led to a redistribution ofpeople in space-notjust in Welcome-but also in Delhi ifnot India as a whole. WELCOME TO I-/ISTORY 53

THE BIRTH OF A COLONY Welcome: A Window in Time and Space A briefglance at a map ofDelhi would seem at first to confirm the sceptic's view that We1come is a marginal space oflittle relevance to the development of the city. Indeed the colony is only identifiable to those who know it by its official name of Seelampur.4 Seelampur, situated in the of East Delhi, slips off the edge of many Delhi maps which pay little attention to developments east of the river even though the area is today densely populated. To ail intents and purposes Seelampur is justa name, indicating a place somewhere in the unfashionable fringes ofthe area known collectively as 'trans:Jamuna'-a phrase which itselfreveals the 'West-is-Centre' logic of the city. But ifone were to take the same map and mark ail the spots from which the residents ofWelcome hail andwhere their homes were demolished prior to their resettlement (Map 3.1), the development of Welcome would no longer seem so peripheral to the development ofthe city as a whole. On the contrary, it would become apparent that Delhi would look quite different were it not for the succession of demolitions out of which the colony of Welcome was born and through which new roads, parks and public buildings sprouted throughout the city. For with each new influx of evicted sium dwellers to Welcome, there was a corresponding transformation in the use of space in the city centre. And since Welcome draws its population from over eighty different locations situated in ail corners of the capital, from areas as diverse as in the south to theJama Masjid in the heart of Old Delhi, the birth of the colony is inextricably bound with the mor­ phology of the city as a whole. A map indicating demolitions may look more like a bombardment plan than a development plan (the similarity is by no means incidental), but it reminds us of the very tangible links traced by members of the resettled population to the different locations in the city where they used to live and work. This link often tends to be forgotten, not least because the sium clearance policy is built on the logic of erasure, designed to wipe out the ugly and sordid face of the metropolis-the cramped and over-populated 'jhuggi jhonpri. clusters' and the 'inner city siums'. These were the aspects of Delhi that offended the eyes and noses of respectable middle class citizens who did not want to see them at the âme and who certainly do not wish to preserve their memory. Describing such places, the authors of the Draft Master Plan for Delhi remarked: 'The ugly hutment colonies pox-mark practically every part of the city. The majority of the occupants live in huts or filthy shacks built of poor material. They are mostly located in forsaken and insanitary places, bordering railway lines, open drains, open spaces ear­ marked for dumping refuse, etc.'5 In such statements' metaphors ofdisease and refuse intertwine as if jhuggi jhonpri clusters-and by extension their 54 EMMA TARLO inhabitants-were not only saturated with refuse and contagion butwere in a sense their material embodiment. What both refuse and disease share in common is the necessity of elimination. 'Cancerous growths' must be removed just as garbage should be collected and dumped outside the boundaries of the city. When a factory worker from Welcome remarked, 'They said they wanted to remove poverty, but actually its not poverty they want to eliminate, its the poor,' he described how it felt to be on the other side of such equations in which people and their condition fuse into one. Once we re-establish the links between those resettled and the spaces where they once lived and worked it becomes less surprising that the residents of a single resettlement colony like Welcome should have a wide range of memories and experiences not only ofurban policies but also ofthe vagaries of history more generaIly. In fact, 1 would argue that far from being marginalized by national policies and events, the urban poor often find themselves deeply implicated within them for they lack the political, economic and educational resourceswith which to build a shield in moments ofcrises. Whether singled out as the targetgroup ofapolicyor simplyexposed to critical events like wars or so called 'communal riots', the residents of Welcome have, more often than not fo'und themselves caught at the very centre of the action. But before turning to their accounts of events, 1 want first to introduce the colony from the perspective ofurban policy.

Welcome: A Guided Tour ofResettlement Policy At one level Welcome is undeniably a product ofurban planning-a colony conceived on paper, carved up in chalk and parcelled out to evicted sIum dwellers in smaIl portions of land. Despite the high level of unauthorized construction, the colony's plan is discernible even today. Enter Welcome from the Grand Trunk Road which stretches eastwards out ofDelhi towards the Uttar Pradesh border and you will walk past three lanes ofdouble storey tenement blocks, each 40 sq. yd. in dimension and evenly spaced-Welcome's respectable facade. However, the main body of the colony is a lego-like conglomerate of over 4,000 smaIl brick houses arranged in blocks along narrow gulis (lanes) equipped with open gutters, plinths and taps. The colony is divided into two phases, officially known as Phases 3 and 4. Phases 1 and 2 are situated in the separate but neighbouring colony of New Seelampur, which predates Welcome and from which Welcome must once have been an offshoot (Map 3.2). If Welcome's plan is discernible at ground level, it is less clear in the skyline. When plots were allocated to the displaced in the 1960s and 1970s, the latter were expected to ~onstruct their own houses with the result that the colony has grOViJ} haphazardly over time. The narrowness of the plots has forced residents to develop their space verticaIly, with the result that those who can afford it have constructed buildings ofseveral storeys, usually on shaky foundations. In Phase 4 where this has become the norm, many of the streets resemble parts of Old Delhi with their tall narrow structures, WELCOME TO HISTORY 55 balconies and roof spaces crammed with families and workshops. Besides plots and tenements, Welcome has a smattering of public buildings, small parks, toilets, temples, , an idgah (Muslim ceremonial ground), cemetery and several markets-all of which to sorne extent break up the monotony of this excessively inhabited space. Sorne of these were written into the original plans for the colony; others have developed over time through the initiative oflocal residents. Welcome also has its unofficial section situated at the back ofthe colony where the ground plan gives way to a crazy maze ofmeandering gulis which follow no discernible logic. Here houses vary from four-storey brick and concrete constructions to tiny makeshift hovels-all jammed together in what is a claustrophobic and precarious space. This unauthorized area is locally known as the Janata Colony (people's colony). Both officiaIs and residents refer to it as a 'jhuggi jhonpri cluster' but the term belies the fact that many of the houses have been there for over 20 years and have the appearance ofpermanence. At one level it is possible to read the structure and layout of the colony as a statement ofthe successes and failures ofresettlement policy over time. The tenements at the entrance representa period ofrelative optimism when the ideas ofsIum clearance and resettlementwere still in their experimental phase. Itwas back in 1958 that the Advisory Committee appointed for Delhi had first devised an initiative known as theJhuggiJhonpri Removal Scheme (lJRS). The aim was to remove squatters from government land and to allocate them plots of 80 sq. yd. at subsidized rates in new areas earmarked for resettlement. The plots would contain the basic amenities oflatrine, tap and plinth but it would be up to resettled families to construct their own homes. A census of squatters was carried out in 1960 and sIum clearance began in the same year. New Seelampur which pre-dates Welcome contains sorne of these original 80 sq. yd. plots. However, the scheme soon ran into difficulties. Not only were there many evicted sIum dwellers who were unable or unwilling to pay monthly instalments, but there were also many others who sold their plots to developers and returned to the city centre where they constructed newjhuggis near their places of work. This in turn encouraged a new wave of squatters who had learned that there was money to be made by squatting on govern­ ment land. As a result ofthese difficulties the scheme was modified in 1962. Squatters were classified as 'eligible' or 'ineligible' according to whether or not they had been in Delhi beforeJuly 1960. The former were to be resettled on new conditions; the latter dispersed in the hopes of discouraging other migrants from squatting in the city. It was at this time that the DDA decided to develop built-up tenements for those eligible squatters whom they felt would be able to pay suitable rents. The poorer eligible squatters were to be taken to 'provisional camping sites' where regular plots and tenements would be developed at a later date. The 400 odd tenements built in Welcome are a product of this short­ lived phase when it was still thought that sorne evicted sIum dwellers were 56 EMMA TARLO

capable ofpaying to live in built accommodation. Itwas not long before the construction oftenements was abandoned altogether, as were the 80 sq. yd. plots. Instead plots of25 sq. yd. were developed and allocated on a leasehold basis with very minimum subsidized rents. By 1964 even ineligible squatters were allocated temporary camping sites since it had proved impossible to distinguish the eligible from the ineligible who, needless to say, refused to disappear from the city in the manner the authorities had hoped. Phase 3 of Welcome, whichwas developed gradually between 1963 and 1969, is a product of these modifications in resettlement policy when 25 sq. yd. became the standard size for a residential plot and 12 sq. yd. for a commercial plot. Phase 4 is a product of the accelerated sium clearance and resettlement activities that took place in Delhi during the Emergency years of1975-7 about which we shall discuss more later. If the planned area of Welcome can be read as an embodiment of resettlement policy over time, the unofficial area at the back of the colony can be read as an embodiment of its failure-a reminder that the develop­ ment of squatter colonies is a never ending process. In fact recent studies have revealed that far from solving the 'sium problem', resettlementcolonies have proved fertile ground for attracting new migrants who tap into the already meagre facilities provided to the resettled population, leading to the development ofwhat Sabir Ali has called 'siums within slums'.6 However, the evolution of Welcome is more than simply the evolution ofurban policy. When one speaks to residents ofthe colony, it soon becomes apparent that each block ofthe colony has a very specific historywhich links it not only to a phase in urban planning but also to a specific location in the city and often to a particular moment or event. These foundation narratives do not deny the importance of policy, but they situate it within a tangled web of other factors. From the accounts of the resettled, it is possible to make an alternative reading of the distribution of space in Welcome­ one in which policy, location, political agenda and event are intermingled in complex ways.

Welcorne: Sorne Narratives ofFoundation We begin this alternative reading ofthe morphology ofWelcome in Phase 3 of the colony by talking to residents in blocks which bear the initiaisJB. JB stands forJamuna Bazaar, once a notorious sium located between the wall of the old city and the riverJamuna-now an area dominated by park land and major roads. Through the narratives of local residents we learn of the complex web of factors that culminated in the erasure ofJamuna Bazaar and the creation oftheJB blocks in Welcoœe.

AN EX-RICKSHAW DRIVER: 1was about eighteen when 1first came toJ amuna Bazaar. Those were still the days of British rule and there were very few jhuggis there at the time. The sIum grew at the time of Partition with the coming of Punjabi refugees, but many ofthem were powerful people who were able to get land and tenements. Only the poor ones stayed on inJamuna Bazaar. Most ofthe people there were poorpeople WELCOME TO HISTORY 57 like me from UP [Uttar Pradesh].... In those days there used to be two parties-the Congress and theJana Sangh. To get votes and seats one or other used to come to the colony and. tell us that they would prevent the place from being demolished.... Actually they had been trying to remove people from there for sorne time but the issue was always shunted to the background because of the vote factor. This process went on for many years.... In 1960 Jamuna Bazaar was surveyed in the census of squatters and targeted for demolition. However, it was not until 1967 that an effective demolition drive was launched in the area after several minor attempts.

A TEA STALL OWNER: Initially the government was offering plots of 80 sq. yd. in New Seelampur. But people refused to move. Our leaders told us we couldn't be taken off. There was one pradhan [local sium leader] who assured us that he would force the government to give us land at Jamuna Bazaar itself. But of course that never happened.... By the time the bulldozers came they had reduced the size ofplots to 25 sq. yd. and were no longer offering help with materials and construction. Sorne were taken to Seemapuri and couldn't get plots in Welcome for sorne years; others came directly here.

A SWEEPER: We used to live near the cremation ground at Nigam Bodh Chat [inJamuna Bazaar]. One day they organized a big meeting and told us that because of the bad smell coming from the burning bodies and because of the frequent problems with flooding, they were going to move us to a new place. Of course nobody believed them because this kind of talk had been going on for years. But a few days later the police came and told us to remove our belongings because the whole area was going to be c1eared. We collected sorne things-I took corrugated iron and asbestos from my roof and sorne bricks. These were loaded into trucks along with our household possessions and we were taken offhere. Basically the place was like an empty field at that time with orchards ail around but they had marked out plots with white chalk and they handed out possession slips and told us to stay put. Such accounts reveal that the JB blocks in We1come are linked to the erased sIum ofJamuna Bazaar not only through the memories of the displaced but also through the bricks and materials they carried with them. Initially they literally built their homes in We1come out of the rubble of the previous sIum. But the narratives also reveal how the resettlement policy was tangled up in a web ofpolitical factors with the result that for many years the threat of demolition was balanced out by the promise of protection from local leaders and political parties. To find outwhat finally tipped the balance we turn to the account ofJagmohan, ex-director of the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) who regards the clearing of Jamuna Bazaar and, in particular, Nigam Bodh Chat as one of his early triumphs. Interestingly in his account, it is not the sIum dwellers who needed to be protected from the stench of the burning ghats, but the other way round. He recalls, Once, in the late fifties, DrRajendra Prasad, former President oflndia went to Nigam Bodh Chat in connection with the death ofone of his relatives. Apart from the fact that he was deeply moved by what he saw, his national pride was hurt by the reaction ofsorne diplomats who could hardly stand the stench, filth and flies all around. On return, with poetic pain and anguish, he wrote a letter to the Chief Commissioner. 58 EMMA TARLO

He suggested that immediate steps should he taken to remove the slummy conditions, improve the environment and restore the sanctity ofNigam Bodh Chat. Yet such was the stranglehold ofthe sIum politics, nothing was done for years. The area remained a spectacle of national shame and human misery in its worse form. 7 The factor thatfinally enabled its transformation from a place of'national shame' to one of 'national pride' was the Government oflndia's decision to transfer sIum clearance operations from the locally-run Municipal Corporation into the hands ofthe centrally-adIJlinistered Delhi Development Authority. This, combined with the use of Section 144 of the Criminal Procedures Code which gave the police the right to fire on anything said to resemble a crowd, provided a suitable erivironment for the demolitions to be carried out quickly and effectively inJune 1967.Jagmohan describes with enthusiasm the rapidity wüh which the whole area and its inhabitants were erased: 'In about 3 days the clearance and simultaneous resettlement was completed. Immediately after the shifting, bulldozers were pressed into service. The area was levelled, and the work of developing the river front and the laying of the garden taken in hand. Horticulturists, engineers, planners and administrators worked around the clock to translate a dream into a reality. A new missionary zeal had gripped the entire set-up.'8 For the displaced people who found themselves dumped with their small piles of rubble outside the city in the peak of the summer, the dream was more ofa nightmare. Indeed, many people recall not daring to sleep during those early days in Welcome when they feared attack from snakes and goondas (ruffians) at night. Taken together the contrasting but complementary narratives of Jagmohan and the ex-residents ofJamuna Bazaar reveal that the transfer of people and bricks from this centrally located sIum to the newly developing colony ofSeelampur (Welcome) was contingent not only on sIum clearance policy but also on the political circumstances which created a suitable environment for such policy to be put into practice. They also reiterate the point that the development ofindividual blocks in Welcome cannot be seen independenùy from the redevelopment of different sites within the city. AlI blocks in Welcome are built on a similar act oferasure-each one recall­ ing something which no longer exists. While the JB blocks recall the redevelopment of Nigam Bodh Ghat, other blocks recall the development ofRajghat Samadhi or the clearing ofnational monuments like India Gate. Yet others trace their origin to the creation ofspace for new monuments of national significance such as the international trade pavilions at Pragati Maidan. Sometimes it was a sudden unpredictable event whiéh precipitated a particular act of sIum clearance, resulting in the founding of another new block in Welcome. Near theJB blocks is a block which evokes the memory ofa terrible fire at the jhuggi colony known as Dairy Kisan Chand. The fire, which took place in 1961; had destroyed much of the colony but it had also provided the justification for the Municipal Corporation to demolish the rest on the grounds that it was unsafe for human habitation. Many of the WELCOME TO HISTORY 59

survivors were shifted to the colony of Srinivaspuri where they were given 80 sq. yd. plots and compensation money. Those who ended up in Welcome are the ones who had tried to defy the authorities by rebuilding their jhuggis back on the spot where the fire had taken place. They had succeeded in remaining there a few years more until a new wave of demolition drives resulted in their being washed up in Welcome's 'black waters'.9 Not far from this block is a small block-of people who used to live in jhuggis atJamuna Bridge. In their case it was war with that finally precipitated their displacement to Welcome, although they did not obtain official plots for several years as one man-ironically a demolition worker for the Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD)-explained:

DEMOLITION WORKER: We were li4'Îng in jhuggis atJamuna Bridge at that time. There were lots of blackouts. The government was worried that the Pakistan forces would drop a bomb on the bridge. They instructed us to remain in darkness, but someone lit a fire, so the police told us we were a threat to security and would have to be moved. Then they came and demolished our jhuggis and dumped us here. It was September 1965.

AUTHOR: Were you given plots?

DEMOLITION WORKER: No. Because it was an emergency situation. We werejust thrown in the park [area ofWe1come] so we built ourselves jhuggis. There was nothing here in those days. It was just a wild place full of serpents and roaming goondas. Later they demolished ourjhuggis here as weil and tried to take us off and give us plots in Seemapuri. There had been sorne fighting between Hindus and Muslims and that was why they said we had to move. Most people went, but sorne 40 families stayed on. We just rebuilt ourselves new jhuggis here in We1come.

AUTHOR: So how did you finally get this plot?

DEMOLITION WORKER: That was during nasbandi ka vakl (the sterilization time). They were going about demolishingjhuggis, but they said we could get plots in We1come if we got sterilized. So we got sterilized to get these plots. In this briefextract ofa conversation, we see a complex interweaving of policy, location and event. On the one hand, this man is dependent on municipal policy for he earns his living as a demolition worker. On the other hand, he has thrice found himselfat the receiving end ofdemolition drives which were linked as much to specifie political conditions as to urban planning. Itis quite possible that the jhuggïs underJamuna Bridge had, like the jhuggis atJamuna Bazaar, long been intended for demolition but it was the 22-day war with Pakistan that provided the context in which that plan became a reality. It also provided a pretext (real or imagined) for blaming sIum dwellers for their own eviction for in the memory of the demolition man and other members ofhis block, it was thejhuggi dwellers who brought the demolition on themselves by lighting a fire under conditionsofblackout. Whatever the reality, the urgency of the situation seems to have resulted in their not being allocated official plots butrather being dumped temporarily in the open park land ofthe colony where they simply built themselves new jhuggïs. The consequence of their unofficial status was that each time new 60 EMMA TARLü political tensions surfaced, first in the form of localized violence between Hindus and Muslims, and later in the form of 's sterilization drive, the DDA feltjustified in dealing with the situation by razing the area to the ground and trying to move the inhabitants elsewhere. Finally, after his third experience of demolition, the man was faced yet again with the prospect of displacement. But this time there was an alternative path. The year was 1976. Indira Gandhi had declared a state of internai Emergency and her son, Sanjay, had launched his infamous sterilization drive. The DDA, anxious to fulfil sterilization targets, was offering plots to those who agreed to have the operation. A deal was struck and the demolition man, who need­ less to saywas busy demolishing the jhuggis ofothers during the Emergency, was finally able to secure an official plot in Welcome. For the people ofJamuna Bridge there had been no simple continuity between their experience ofdemolition and their experience ofresettlement. In fact, most of the people displaced from Jamuna Bridge went on to ex­ perience further displacement and soon found themselves allocated plots in the resettlement colony of Seemapuri a few miles further towards the UP border. According to one old woman, 'those who were clever went to Seemapuri and sold their plots and then returned to Welcome. But those who weren'tjust stayed put'. Whatever the case, the 36 families who eventually obtained their plots in the block through sterilization were undoubtedly the stubborn few who had tried to escape the dictates ofurban planners. Then there were the others, the four families who have built temporary homes adjacent to the block but who do not have official plots. These are the ones who submitted sterilization certificates in 1976 only to be told that ail the plots had been taken. Determined not to be defeated one such woman explained, 'We have occupied this piece of land in the hope that if they demolish this, then theywill provide us with an alternative place.' Her gesture is backed by the local pradhan who comments with assertiveness, 'if the government ever wants to start causing trouble over this, they will have to take my permission first'. As far as local residents are concerned, these four unofficial plots are part of their particular block for their inhabitants share the same collective history of struggle and determination in the face of external war, internai emergency and demolition squads. It would of course be possible to trace a different foundation narrative for every residential block in Welcome, just as it would be possible to map the resettled population ofeach block to a specific location in the city. But constraints ofspace do not permitsuch detai!. Suffice it to say that the reading ofspace offered by the residents ofPhase 3 ofWelcome is far more rich and complex than any reading possible from the perspective ofurban planning. And ifwe enter Phase 4 of the colony, we find that the entire area has been cr~ated through a similar interface ofpolicy and event for it was developed and populated during 1975-7 when the DDA's sium clearance operations thrived under the climate of coercion created by Emergency regulations. This was a time when the entire citywas perforated with demolitions as about 15 per cent of the population was dispersed from the city centre in a mere WELCOME TO HISTORY 61

19 l'nonths. In the spaces left behind by these acts oferasure new parks, trees and public buildings sprouted ail over the city whilst a ring of poverty accumulated and thickened around its edges. Of the 7,00,000 or so people displaced, sorne 1,800 families ended up in Welcome bringing with them memories of the sites of erasure out of which aB resettlement colonies are inevitably built. Blocks in Phase 4 of the colony trace their foundation histories to a whole range of inner city locations, including controversial areas like Dujana House, Kala and the Jama Masjid in the old city. These were not so much jhuggijhonpriclusters as dilapidated inner city areas which had long been classified as 'notified slums'-a term which gave the DDA the authority to destroy them even before the internai Emergency of the 1970s, although it was the Emergency conditions that enabled them to exercise that right. Viewed in this Iight even the jhuggi area known as theJanata Colony at the back ofWelcome can be understood less in terms of the failure of sium policy and more in terms of a blatantly political gesture made at a precise historical moment. For, as local residents reveal, despite the spontaneous­ looking appearance of this sium, it was in fact cultivated and nurtured by politiciansjustone week before the defèat ofthe Emergencygovernmentin March 1977:

A LOCAL PRAD HAN: There were sorne 17 families who had got sterilized but could not get plots at the hands of the DDA. H.K.L. BhagatlO assured them that he would provide the land. However, when we reached the spot on 15 March we found sorne other people already pitching jhuggis there. H.K.L. Bhagat thought only the 17 people should be put up there but another Congress leader supported the setting up of the colony for everybody. The colony was inaugurated on 16 March 1977 and once it was established we ail took a vow not to move from this place.

LOCAL RESIDENT: The Janata Colony was created by the Congress. They made it in order to try to get votes at a time when they were losing power because of the Emergency. That the sium was a produet of Congress manipulations is confirmed not only by the accounts ofother residents of the colony, but also by the fact that, in 1977, several attempts were made to demolish it under the directorship ofthe newJanata Governmentwhich replaced Indira Gandhi's Emergency Government. The first ofthese attempts was halted by protesting residents Iying down in front of the bulldozers; the second was greeted by a hunger strike organized by prominent people of the sium. Despite the fact that the Janata Party had built its following partly through its violent condemnation of Emergency sium clearance measures, it nonetheless did not hesitate to employ similar measures to try to getrid ofa sIum patronized by its main rival, the Congress. It is likely that the population of theJanata colony swelled more rapidly than even its founders had anticipated for the demolitions of 1975-7 had created a floating population of desperate dis­ placed people in search of space in the capital. We have traced the foundation ofdifferent areas and blocks in Welcome 62 EMMA TARLO

by examining the web of spatial and temporal factors that facilitated the enactment of the sIum clearance and resettIement initiatives which formed part of a long-term urban plan devised in the late 1950s. In this sense the narratives of the people ofWeIcome tell us how the colony has developed through the playing out ofinternaI politics and external events in different locations aIl over the city. But this is not to imply thatonce shifted to WeIcome, the resettIed population-who might more appropriately be called the unsettIed population-ceased to play a partin historic events. As the example of theJanata Colony reminds us, national events are also played out within marginal spaces like WeIcome. In this sense WeIcome provides a window not just onto Delhi but onto historic processes that have effected north India as a whole for within each decade of the colony's existence a eritical event of national significance has led to a reshuffling of its population. This means that any reading of the colony purely in terms of urban planning takes us one step further from the reality of its development. What the following examples reveal is the extent to which the socio-dynamics ofspace amongst the urban poor in Delhi is subject to a constant process of reconfiguration as national events are played out at a locallevel.

HISTORIC RECONFIGURATIONS, OPERATIONAL PLOTS That the Emergcncy of 1975-7 was a significant moment in the history of Welcome is evident from the fact that this was the time when Phase 4 of the colonywas developed. The accounts ofthose displaced fromJamuna Bridge also reveal that sorne people living unofficially in the colony had been able to secure official plots through sterilization at that time. It would however be wrong to conclude that the allocation of land on a sterilization basis was restricted to one small corner ofthe colony. On the contrary, the sterilization drive, which became so notorious during the Emergency, had a profound effect on restructuring the colony as a whole. Official records of the sIum department reveal that there is not a single block in WeIcome that was not affected by itY To understand the impactofthe sterilization drive on the socio-dynamics of space in WeIcome, it is necessary first to situate it within the context of family planning policy more generally. Like the resettlement programme, family planning had always been unpopular in India and suffered from severe problems of implementation. Apart from a few mass sterilization camps in Kerala which were deemed 'successful' at the time, few decisive attempts had been made to curb the population growth, not least because the issue was destined to lose the government votes. However, by the 1970s India was under considerable pressure from the international community, which was predicting a global population disaster with India at its centre. This external pressure no doubt formed the background to the decision to prioritize family planning during the Emergency. Following earlier experiments in Kerala it was decided that sterilization was the most efficient method of birth control WELCOME TO HISTORY 63 and that men should be targeted since vasectomy was both cheaper and easier to perform than tubectomy.12 Strangely, itwas not the Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, who took responsibility for promoting this policy, but her inexperienced son, Sanjay who made family planning part of his four (and later five) point programme. Since it was weIl known that people would not want to volunteer themselves for the operation, a package of 'incentives' and 'disincentives' was drawn up with the aim ofensuring the participation ofaIl governmentdepartments. The directors ofeach departmentwere issued targets accordingly and told to levy sterilization cases from their employees. In this sense the DDAwas no more implicated in family planningactivities than any other government department in Delhi. AlI departments--whether concerned with education, transport, health, electricity Of housing-were expected to accumulate sterilization certificates and most did so by threatening to withdraw the salaries of those employees who had two or more children unless they got sterilized. In Welcome aIl the govermnent employees with whom we spoke, with the exception of two railway coolies, had in 1976 been forced to submit their bodies for sterilization in order to retain their pay. But although this 'disincentive' proved an efficient means of coercing the poorest and least powerful government servants into sterilization, it seems to have been less successful at higher levels in the administration. B At the same time high level officiaIs were anxious to prove their enthusiasm for family planning since careers and budgets depended on their success in meeting and, if possible, exceeding sterilization targets. This meant thatonce they had exhausted their own workforce as a resource, they began to cast their nets a little wider in an attempt to draw in sterilization cases from the general public. This they did by denying basic services to civilians until such time as the latter agreed to pay for the services by getting themselves sterilized. In 1976 a whole range of activities from school admissions to ration became dependent on production of a sterilization certificate. As one man in Welcome put it,

The time was such thatyou had to produce that nasbandi card [sterilization certificate] wherever you went and ifyou wanted any work ofyours to be done. Ifyou went for hospital treatment they wouldn't treat you unless you had that nasbandi cardo It was exactly Iike it is now with Seshan's identity card. J4 That nasbandi card was needed at ev~ry place and in ail Government offices. Discussion of the multiple routes through which a large number of the residents ofWelcome were manoeuvred into getting themselves sterilized is beyond the scope of this essay.15 Myaim here is to concentrate uniquely on DDA-related sterilizations since these were the ones that led to a radical re­ distribution ofland within the colony. Records held by the sIum department of the DDA reveal thatjust over 28 per cent of the plots in Welcome were officialized in 1976 through sterilization. Thesewere distributed throughout the colony although the concentration ofsterilizations differed from block to block. Analysis of the records pertaining to Welcome combined with 64 EMMA TARLü

conversations with both housing officiais and local residents reveal that the process bywhich the DDA levied their cases was highly complex. Basically in September 1976 production of a sterilization certificate became the new pre-requisite for the allocation or regularization ofresettlement plots in the area. Effectively applicants were given two choices: either they got sterilized themselves or else they paid someone else to getsterilized, thereby attaining the status of a 'motivator'. Those who presented themselves as motivators were as entitled to plots as those who presented themselves on a self­ sterilization basis. Itwas only the motivated people who were not eligible for plots since they had received money instead from the motivator. As one man in Welcome succinctly put it, 'it was a forcible deal on the part of the government'. This deal did not present itself to those residents who already had official plots in Welcome and had ail the documents of entitlement . relating to the demolition of their previous sium. Butfor those already living in the colony without the relevant documents or those, whose homes were unofficial or had just been demolished, the deal was a matter of land or no land. Only by sacrificing theirreproductive capacity, or by paying others to sacrifice theirs did they gain the right to live in the colony. Since this was a time when demolition squads were out in force ail over Delhi, the possibility of squatting on land elsewhere in the capital was not a viable option. Essentially there were three main routes through which the DDA accumulated sterilization cases from people already settled in Welcome. The first was by demolishing ail unofficial constructions in the colonyand refusing to offer alternative sites to the displaced until they produced evidence of self or motivated sterilization. Effectively, this was the situation faced by the people displaced from Jamuna Bridge during the Pakistan war and there were many others who had been squatting unofficially in Welcome or in nearby colonies who suddenly found themselves homeless as a result of demolitions in September 1976. Jagmohan, who was in charge of DDA operations during the Emergency, has always denied that plots were allocated to displaced sium dwellers on a sterilization basis, but the DDA's own records as weil as the testimonies of people in Welcome prove otherwise. Whilst blocks populated as a result of demolitions in 1975 contain only a small proportion ofsterilization cases (13 per cent), those populated as a result of demolitions in 1976 are basically built on sterilization cases (83 per cent). These blocks are located on the extreme edges of the colony and are collectively referred to by many residents as the Nasbandi plots. In spatial terms, the dispersal ofjhuggi dwellers from ail over Welcome to the edges of the colony echoes the dispersal ofjhuggi dwellers from ail over the capital to the edges of the city. The second route through which the DDA officiaIs levered sterilization cases was by scanning the colony for what they called 'irregularities'. At the time of their resettlement ail those who were allocated official plots had been made to sign affidavits in which they agreed to abide by a long list of rules which included not selling or letting out their piots. The resettlement process was intended to remove the poor indefinitely from the city centre. \"iELCOME TO HISTORY 65

However sorne of the people resettled in the 1960s had, by the mid 1970s, sold up and left the colony whilst others had let out space to tenants. In September 1976, DDA officiaIs were on the lookout for such irregularities. Suddenly beth tenants and purchasers, sorne of whom had been living in Welcome for over a decade, found themselves confronted with the bleak choice of sterilization (self or motivated) or eviction. Most chose either to get sterilized or ta pay someone else to take their place on the operating table. The result was that absentee landlords lost their properties ta their tenants who now became the official occupants of their homes and plots. The third technique employed by the DDA was to make sterilization a medium of negotiation. People wanting transfers from other colonies or seeking to obtain a second plot now had the opportunity to do so by getting sterilized or 'motivating' someone else. Sterilization had in effect become a form ofcurrency and there were sorne individuals who used the sterilization drive as a means ofpurchasing land they could otherwise iU afford. Others, though opposed to family planning themselves, turned the threat to their advantage by motivating the maximum number of people. Such was the case with the 30 scrap iron merchants whose old market on the Grand Trunk Road (near Welcome) ~ad been demolished by the DDA. By motivating three people each, they were able to get double-sized plots in Welcome. The people they 'motivated' were mainly poor villagers from Uttar Pradesh who had come to Delhi either to seek refuge from coercive sterilization in their villages or because they had heard that there was money to be made through sterilization in the capital. Constraints ofspace preclude a discussion of the process by which the motivation structure operated on the ground­ something 1 have discussed elsewhere at sorne length.16 Suffice it to say that the market for sterilization that developed as a consequence of the DDA's initiative took the family planning policy out of the hands of the state and into the hands of intermediaries and black marketeers who cared little for the victims of their trade. Itis difficult to generalize from the experiences ofthe people ofWelcome since one of the most remarkable features ofthe family planning campaign during the Emergency was the extent to ~hich individual officers and ministers were given carte blanche to invent the rules. Certainly it seems likely that the other six resettlement colonies belonging to East Zone B of the sIum wing suffered similar treatment at the hands ofthe DDA and there is sorne evidence ta suggest that the offer ofplots for sterilization was common in different parts of Delhi. Furthermore, the testimonies ofsorne Welcome residents who paid pOOf villagers to get sterilized in their place reveal that in the rural areas ofUP the pressure was equaUy, ifnot more, intense. In social terms, this pressure always accumulated downwards until those at the bottom of the hierarchy had little choice but to get sterilized. In spatial terms, it radiated outwards from the capital,with the northern states levying far higher sterilization tolls than those in the south.17 The sterilization drive of September 1976 had two main effects on the socio-dynamics ofspace in Welcome. The first was to disperse jhuggi dwellers 66 EMMA TARLO

from inside the colony, settling them in peripheral blocks where they were mixed up with sU"angers from their own and other religious communities. The second was to fix the position of those who had entered the colony as illegal purchasers and tenants. Through sterilization they now became official occupants whilst the original owners lost their rights to land in the colony. Ironically, aIl plots issued or regularized through sterilization were granted on a provisional basis and are still categorized as 'provisional' to this day. In spite of this, the emergency re-shuffle had a stabilizing effect on the colony for it gave the inhabitants of Welcome a feeling of security' they had not previously experienced. It was only after the dramatic events of 19;76 that people gained the confidence to invest in building permanent pukka homes in the colony. The fact that over a quarter of aIl families in the colony had sealed their rights to land in tlesh and blood gave them a feeling oflegitimacy as if so~ehow confirming the permanence of their relationship to their plots. Little did they know that when the MCD took over administration of the sium wing from the DDA immediately after the Emergency, one of the first things they contemplated was the cancellation of aIl allocations of land that had been made on a sterilization basis.

The Missing Community Over twenty years have passed since the Emergency and in this time the inhabitants ofWelcome have done much to impose their own logic on the colony. This is particularly apparent in the carving up ofspace for religious activities. The colony now has several large temples and shrines as weIl as many mosques, an idgah and a graveyard. A passer-by could easily be forgiven for assuming that Hindus and Muslims are the only religious communities represented in Welcome. However. near the entrance to the colony is a large building which, in 1997, was still under construction. From it there stuck a tlag revealing that this was in fact a gurdwara (Sikh Temple) in the making. Whatwas curious about the emergence ofthis gurdwara in Welcome was the apparent absence ofSikhs in the colony. It was several months before my assistant and 1 happened to chance upon an old Sikh man in one ofWelcome's markets. We were keen to talk to him and he was more than willing to explain the mystery of the gurdwara without . The new building was in fact a replacement of an older gurdwara, which had been destroyed: In 1984 our gurdwar;rwas burnt to ashes. Not a single brick ofit was left. Before that time there used to be sorne 60 or 65 Sikh families in WeIcome but now there can't be more than 15. Mostofthem left never to come back. Tell me, how can someone loot a house when the head of the family is sitting right there imide it? But this is exactly what happened here in WeIcome in 1984. The old man was ofcourse referring to the Sikh massacre, which followed the assassination of Indira Gandhi by two of her Sikh bodyguards in 1984. His account seemed to suggest that Sikhs no longer feIt secure in Welcome WELCOME TO HISTORY 67 and led me to ask why he himselfhad stayed on, to which he gave the following reply: By April 1 will no longer be here. 1 am moving to the Ashram area. There are many people from our own community on thatside oftown. It's notgood to live in an area where you are isolated from your own community. These days there aren't any Sikhs left in the plots [ofWelcomeJ. The only few that remain are in the tenements area. 1 have made a good life in Welcome and have made good money from this place but one should not be greedy. Now it is time to leave. We spent several hours listening to this man's account of how he had survived the massacre of Partition when most of his family had been killed escaping from Pakistan. 'They had created a second Pakistan for us' was the phrase he used to describe the anti-Sikh violence of 1984, although this time his life had been saved by Muslims. Welcome, with its small Sikh community, had not suffered the terrible losses experienced in sorne parts of the capital, but for the few Sikh families who did live in the colony the feeling of betrayal invoked by the episode had been enough to provoke a slow but systematic exodus. It is as if by erasing the gurdwara, the vengeful mobs had in effectguaranteed the erasure ofthe communityfrom the colony. How then should we interpret the emergence ofthe new gurdwara now under construction? Eventually we were able to track down the granthi (Sikh religious leader) and a few remaining Sikhs who lived in the tenement blocks and they confirmed that the congregation had dwindled along with the population with the result that there were only 5 or 6 people left who came to worship at the new gurdwara. Nonetheless the building was at least ten times the size ofthe old one and was being built entirely from money raised by Sikh networks in the absence of government compensation. By the time the building is completed it is likely there will be even fewer Sikhs in Welcome until perhaps only the building will remain as a hollow shell reminiscent of a community that once was. The replacing of a small and relatively in­ significant building with a larger more prominent one has been even more striking in the neighbouring colony of New Seelampur where a huge gurdwara dominates the horizon despite the fact that the Sikh population of the colony has diminished and was never very large in the first place. What we are witnessing in colonies like Welcome and New Seelampur is a symbolic stamping ofthe urban landscape by a wounded minority who dare not live there butwho none the less wish to make their presence felt. These new gurdwaras may remain physically empty most ofthe time but they act as powerful reminders of a community's symbolic refusaI to be effaced.

Separate Paths The departure ofSikhs from We1come represents only a minor shift in the socio-re1igious make-up ofthe colony for the Sikhs had always been a minority community. Farmore drarnatic has been the segregation ofthe two dominant religious communities of Hindus and Muslims. Walking around the colony. 68 EMMA TARLO today one could easily get the impression that Phase 4 of the colony was conceived by planners as a Muslim area and Phase 3 as a space for Hindus. Only the unofficiaIJanata Colony at the back ofWelcome gives the impression of being truly mixed. However, appearances are deceptive. The allotment documents held in the sium department reveal that many blocks ofthe colony used to house a mixture of both Hindus and Muslims even if the former dominated in Phase 3 and the latter in Phase 4. Officiais of the sium departmentconfirmed that the resetùementpolicy was designed to eutacross social and religious divisions by mixing people up. However history has defied policy in Welcome. It is likely that religious segregation is a process that has long been occurring in the colony but there is litùe doubt that the process has accelerated in recent years. In particular, it was the violence following the destruction ofthe Babri Ma~id in Ayodhya by rightwing Hindu extremists in 1992 that has precipitated a systematic re-drawing of socio-religious boundaries within the colony. Walking around Phase 4 it is not un.:ommon to hear residents remark that there used to be several Hindu families in their block but that they have moved away in recent years. Equally, in Phase 3 we heard of Muslim families who had left the colony during the violence, sorne of whom never returned and others who moved to Phase 4 of the colony. The effect of these demographic changes is that those families who remain in areas dominated by the other community feel increasingly vulnerable like the Muslim woman in one of the .lB blocks who told us, '1 don't feel safe living here any more. l'm alone in the house all day long. We are the only Muslims in this street. 1 have told my husband we cannot stay on. We have started looking for somewhere else but the problem is that this is cheaper.' Discussion of the processes by which the residents of Welcome were drawn into sorne ofthe worst violence experienced in the capital in December 1992 is beyond the scope ofthis essay. Suffice it to say that the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya seems to have functioned as an excuse for the playing out oflocal resentments within the colony.Just as the local Chamars of Sultanpuri had used the 'Sikh riots' as a means of re-structuring local relations of power in 1984/8 so in 1992 Hindus in Welcome seem to have seized the opportunity to try ta suppress, if not eliminate, the expanding and relatively successful Muslim community from the colony. This is not to say that all Hindus participated. Butit is veryclearfrom the debris left behind after the conflict that almost all of the property destroyed as well as the people murdered, injured and arrested belonged to the Muslim community. Though to sorne extent scattered, arson attacks had followed a clearly discernible pattern. They had started at a adjoining a Hindu-majority area ofthe colony and had mostly been directed either at entire residential blocks containing mainly Muslims or else at Muslim-owned houses which were targeted within Hindu-majority blocks. Since a large proportion of Muslims in Welcome earn their living working in small manufacturing units for denim jeans and various crafts, what was destroyed was not only their homes but also their means to a livelihood. WELCOME TO HISTORY 69

Much has been written about the'1992 riots' and it is not my intention to add 1O this burgeoning literature here. But l mention 1992 to give a sense ofhow Welcome has been restructured notjust through the violence of the moment-the murder and arson attacks directed mainly against Muslims­ but also through the memory of that moment and the fear that something equivalent might one day occur again. In this sense Welcome is very much a scarred space, or perhaps it would he more appropriate to argue that Welcome's very existence is built up through a process ofperpetual scarring­ whether in the form of sIum fires, demolitions, sterilizations, riots, or massacres so that, in the final analysis, it becomes difficult to isolate the scars from the body of the colony itself. At one level the restructuring ofWelcome might seem marginal to the development of Dclhi as a whole. But, as l have argued from the beginning, resetÙement colonies cannot be divorced from the developmentofthe capital for they are quite literally born through the demolition and re-development ofsorne other place. Similarly, as historic events get played out in Welcome, leading to the reconfiguration of people in space within the colony, so Welcome continues to contribute to wider demographic movements taking place within the city as a whole. Those Sikhs who left Welcome after 1984 have contributed to the building of Sikh-dominated setùements in other parts of the city; similarly those Muslims and Hindus who have moved to areas dominated by their own communities have contributed to the re­ inscribing of geo-religious boundaries, not only in Delhi, but also in many other north Indian cities which experienced the traumas of 1992. In this sense the window that Welcome provides offers a very rich and extended view of developments weil beyond the colony.

CONCLUDING REFLECTIONS l began by expressing my frustration with a young man from Welcome who had tried to convince me that the colony had no history. It is doubtfulwhether l shall ever meet him again, but if l did, l hope l would be able to convince him that Welcome provides us with an interesting opportunity to take a fresh look and develop a new vocabulary for understanding how aspects of the city have been shaped over the years. As the colony grows and becornes restructured over time, this new vocabulary takes us further and further away from the language ofurban planning. Land is allocated not according to rights but through 'forcible deals'; minorities are suppressed through a combination of arson and intimidation; boundaries are re-drawn through acts ofmass violence. Blackmail, obliteration and segregation may not have much ta do with urban policy but, l would argue, they do bring us nearer to understanding how history is lived and experienced by members of the urban poor who constitute a very signifIcant proportion of the population of Delhi. 70 EMMA TARLO

NOTES

1 would like to thank the Economie and Social Research Council of Great Britain for funding this research. 1 am also grateful lO the London School of Economies and Political Science, Goldsmiths College, University of London andJawaharlal Nehru University in New Delhi for their institutional support. For his work as research assistant, 1 would like to thank Rajender Singh Negi and for their willingness to enter into conversation, 1would like to thank the people ofWe\come.

1. For some examples of the former, see H.D. Birdi, Sium Law and Urbanisation, New Delhi: Vidhi, 1995; Giresh K. Misra and Rake;h Gupta, ReseulemenlPolieies in Delhi, Delhi: Institute of Public Administration, 1981; Sabir Ali, Environment and ReseUlement Colonies of Delhi, Delhi: Har Anand Publications, 1995;Jagmohan, RebuildingShahjahanabad, Delhi: Vikas, 1975. For examples ofthe latter, see V. Das (ed.), MirrOTs ofViolence: Communilies, Riols and Survivors in South Asia, Delhi: OUP, 1990; P. Brass, Theft ofan Ido~ Princeton University Press, 1997;]. Spencer, 'Problems in the Analysis of Communal Violence', in Contributions to Indian Sociology, 1992 (n.s.) 26, 2. 2. Cf. V. Das, 'The Spatialisation of Violence: Case Study of a Communal Riot', in K. Basu and S. Subrahmanyan (eds.), Unravelling the Nation: Seetarian Confliet and India's Serular ldentity, New Delhi: Penguin, 1996. 3. Cf. V. Das, Critiral Events, Delhi: OUP, 1995. 4. There are today three neighbonringareas known as Seelampur (sometimes speltSilampur) in the Shahdara district of East Delhi: Old Seelampur-the 'village' area once located outside Del hi but today weil incorporated \vithin the city and dominated by a large wholesale c10th market; New Seelampur---<>ne ofDelhi's oldest resettlement colonies and Seelampur We!comc-a second resettlement colony and the one that concerns us here. Locally it is silllply known as 'We\come'. Ali three Seelampurs have a distinctive identity and are perccived as separate places by the people who live and work there. 5. Cited in Birdi, op. cil., 1.52. 6. Cf. Sabir Ali, SIUlIl' within Siums: A Study ofResettlement Colonies in Delhi, Delhi: HarAnand/ Vikas, 1990. 7. Jagmohan, Island of Truth, Delhi: Vikas, 1978, pp. 31-2. 8. Ibid., p. 33. 9. The Hindi phrase Iwla pani meaning black waters is frequently invoked by We!come residents to refer to the sense ofbanishment they felt at being dumped in a far-off colony. It is a euphemistic reference to the Andaman Islands where prisoners used to be deported and hoIds similar connotations as 'Siberia' for Europeans. 10. H.K.L. Bhagat was the Congress Minister of State for Works and Housing during the Emergency. Local pradhans have long cultivated politicallinks with him and used to refer to him as 'the King without a crown'. He has undoubtedly played a major role in both official and unofficial developments in the colony although his reputation is today tarnished by his alleged participation in the Sikh massacre of 1984 and, more particularly, by his failure to intervene during the Hindu-Muslim violence of 1992 when large sections of Welcome and theJanata Colony were burnt down. Il. For a more detailed analysis of sIum department records pertaining to We\come during the emergency, see E. Tarlo forthcoming, 'Paper TrUlhs: The Emergency and Sium Clearance through Forgotten Files', paper presented at the workshop, The Anthropology of the Indian Stale, held at LSE in 1998, to be published in the volume The every day state and society in Modem Indie, eds. V. Benei and CJ. Fuller, Delhi: Social Service Press. 12. For critical insights into the coercive nature ofpre-emergency family planning initiatives, sec M. Vicziany, 'Coercion in a Soft State: The Family-Planning Program oflndia', Part 1: 'The Myth of Volulltarism' and Part 2: 'The Sources of Coercion', Pacifie Affairs, 1982, vol. 55. no. 3,1982, pp. 373-401 and no. 4, pp. 557-93. 13. Informai conversations with medium and high-level officiais suggest that many, though not ail, were able to avoid getting sterilized either by knowing people of influence or by getting credit for 'motivating' others to undergo the operation. WELCOME TO HISTORY 71

14. T.N. Seshan was the Election Commissioner who introduced identity cards following the 1993 elections in which a number ofMuslimsfound themselves excluded from the electoral role on the grounds that they were considered Bangladeshi nationals. The man quoted here is aMuslim embroiderer who, like many Muslims in Welcome, had suffered exclusion from the elections and for whom possession ofan identity card was essential if he wished to escape deportation from Delhi where he had lived ail his life. 15. For details of this, see E. Tarlo, forthcoming Unsettling Memones: Narratives ofthe Emergency in Delhi, London: Hurst, especially Chapters 2 and 6. 16. Cf. E. Tarlo, 'From Victim to Agent: Memories of the Emergency from a Resettlement Colony in Delhi', Economie and Polilical W.ekly, vol. XXX, no. 46, 1995, pp. 2921-8. 17. That Delhi functioned as the physical centre of Emergency measures is confirmed by Gwatkin's observation that the sterilization achieveme nts of different states varied in relation ta their proximity to Delhi, with the highest rates found in neighbouring states and lowest ones in states physically distanced from the capital. Cf. Gwatkin, 'Political Will and Family Planning: Implications of India's Emergency Experience', in Population and Development Reuie-w, vol. 5, no. l, 1979, pp. 29-59. 18. For a detailed study of how the Sikh massacre provided a background for the playing out of micro politics between Sikhs and Chamars in the resettlement colony of Sultanpuri, see V. Das, op. CIL

-, "'-,

RnAWUl l'ClJCI! ITA'nON

BLOCK-G

œ ~~.'-, ~~~"-" ~'1"" , W!~ ~ --,'------1 _; O.T.ROAD maliUfOllU. [ ~ 1

Nole: Phase 3 developed 196~1969,Phase 4 developed 1975-1977.

Source: Delhi Atlas: Colony and Area Maps (New Delhi: ISID and Delhi Police, 1993).

MA? 3.2 OFFICIAL PLAN OF WELCOME COLOr--ry

4

Urban Conquest ofOuter Delhi: Beneficiaries, Intermediaries and Victims

The Case of the Mehrauli Countryside

ANITA SONI

This essay is not a productofpre-planned, methodologically defined research, carried out within a set time frame. Neither does it present quantified findings. Rather, it offers certain insights ofthe kind social activists are prone to obtain through prolonged exposure to grassroot realities and reflection on those realities. In this case, the ground realities ofthe area defined broadly as the 'Mehrauli countryside' have been observed and experienced in the course ofa decade-long personal interaction with little known marginalized communities of rural migrants who settled in the southern parts of Outer Delhi, originally as quarry workers. Ever since the 1960s, when they appeared on the scene as the much needed workforce for the emergent, village-based, quarrying industry of Delhi, these sturdy migrants from diverse occupational and ethnic backgrounds have remained presentin Outer Delhi's rural milieu, adapting themselves with silent determination to profound changes in that milieu. Their continuing experience of material deprivation and insecurity, oppression and humiliation has been the only 'constant' during the consecutive phases of the progressive appropriation of the area by commercial urban interests. 1 shall deal here specifically with one segment of Outer Delhi-the 'Mehrauli countryside'-which has been targeted for appropriation by a particular set of urban aetors, the affluent buyers of luxury country estates which have been carved out of village farmlands and commons. In order to place this peculiar trend in a civilizational perspective, 1consider it necessary to include in my frame ofreference the whole area officially known as 'rural Delhi', largely falling in the Outer Delhi parliamentary constituency. 1 subsume major post-Independence developments in this area under the general theme ofthe 'urban conquest' ofthe hinterland. This has relevance to the whole oflndia and is the key principle ofDelhi's metropolitan growth. 76 ANITA SONI

OUTER DELHI: ClASS-WISE DlFFERENTIATION OF UNREGUlATED SPACE Delhi, it is said, is unusual amollg the world's major cities in that it has managed to push out its growing numbers of poor to the physical fringes. 1 The traditionallyrural areas ofthe Union Territory, corresponding to Outer Delhi and East Delhi parliamentaryconstituencies have, since the Emergency ofl975-7, been assigned the role of'peripheries'-distant tracts ofwilderness, fit to accommodate the masses of slum-dwellers, left to fend for themselves in poorly serviced 'resettlement colonies' (cf. Emma Tarlo in this volume). In the course offurther development, those peripheries have been absorbing assorted segments ofthe urban middle classes-Iower-middle, middle-middle and even upper-middle-in sprawling residential complexes planned by the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) , as weil as in mushrooming unauthor­ ized colonies. New industrial areas have come up, accompanied by the proliferation of new siums and slum-like tenements. Outer Delhi is, both in name and reality, synonymous with metropolitan periphery. With its nearly three million voters, it is the largest parliamentary constituency not only of the capital, but of the whole country. But it is also the least prestigious constituency, considered to be a dingy backyard littered with crime and corruption. Both the vast expanse of its north-western parts (notwithstanding the presence of affluent areas like or Pitampura), and the overcrowded eastern part, from to Tighri, evoke these negative associations. There is, however, one area in Outer Delhi that, far from being regarded as 'periphery', attracts very favourable attention from the most enterprising and ambitious members of the upper class. It is an area markedly free from congestion and squalor, an area ofyet unspoiled scenic beauty, tacitly 'reserved' for the privileged few with high incomes and high connections. This 'special' segment of Outer Delhi has two components: urban and rural. The urban component includes the Tughlakabad Institutional Area, Saket, Qutb Enclave and Institutional Area, University campus, Vasant Vihar and-as the southernmost frontier of metropolitan expansion-. Of these, Vasant Vihar and Saket are long­ established affluent residential areas, similar in character to the 'posh' colonies ofSouth Delhi. Vasant Kunj is a long stretch of multi-storeyed flats and apartments, built in the 1980s by the DDA, and housing mostly salaried employees and young professionais from high income groups. A few urban estates with a 'touch ofclass' also belong here. Sainik Farms (south of Mehrauli-Badarpur road), Ruchi Vihar (behind Vasant Kunj) , Andheria Bagh (at the location of the ancient mango orchards of the same name, near Mehrauli), are arrogant complexes of palatial mansions with gardens, enclosed behind tall boundary walls. They are, from the point of view ofcivic authorities, none other than unauthorizedcolonies, built illegally on agriculturalland. Butsomehow, this derogatory definition is never applied to them. Rather, they are regarded as 'farmhouses'. Their denizens ar~ celebrities of the city's cocktail circuit, and have the means to arrange their URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 77 own electricity, water, drainage and sewage disposaI services. They often indulge in massive power theft with the connivance of law-enforcement agencies.2 The area also has several urban villages-which were once agricultural settlements, but are now surrounded by the metropolitan domain, stripped of their entire land and left onlywith their old original living space (abadi) , where traditionàl rustic architecture is rapidly being replaced with opulent modern kitsch likely to attract prosperous urban tenants and buyers. 3 Clusters ofhuts, officiallyreferred to as 'jhuggi-jhonpricolonies' (shanty towns), found in the vicinity of such villages, are not urban sIums, but habitations of displaced rural people, including both landless sections ofthe original village population and former quarryworkers, most ofwhom came to such places from the 1960s onwards. The rural component of this area comprises the countryside south of Mehrauli, falling within the Mehrauli assembly constituency, and the western region south of the Mehrauli- Road, falling in the Mahipalpur assembly constituency. For administrative purposes, villages of this part of rural Delhi are divided between the Mehrauli and Development mocks, under the respective Block Development Officers. In theory at least, aIl of them are 'rural villages'. This tautological expression is official; it denotes the villages, whose land has not been acquired by the government, and is therefore presumed ta be still in the possession ofindividual farmers. Rural villages are also shown in the land records as possessing their 'gram sabha land' (land coming under the village assembly). Sorne large villages like Dera (in the Mehrauli block) or Rajokri (in the Najafgarh block) have still retained sorne of their fertile agriculturalland and traditional rustic ambience. But the dominant features ofthis once rural belt are the ubiquitous 'farmhouses', prized fiefdoms of the urban gentry. Their high and forbidding boundary walls, increasing in height with each passing year, criss-cross the whole countryside. The sight of open, green village fields has become a rarity. Apart from their obvious use as luxury weekend resorts and lavish entertainment scenery fOf the new-rich, these farmhouses also function as venues for tax-free commercial enterprises. A farmhouse is considered agricultural property, and its owner is entitled to concessions intended for land-tilling farmers-exemption from income-tax and subsidized power for tube-wells. But aIl sorts of highly lucrative businesses thrive behind the conspicuously towering walls and opulent gates: floriculture, nurseries of decorative plants and trees, timber yielding eucalyptus plantations and even garment factories with export outlets. Another important business is the commercial renting out of farmhouse premises for marriage parties and banquets with catering services provided at exorbitant rates. From an ecological point ofview, these farmhouses are a disaster. AIl of them freely use electric power to extract groundwater through tube-wells, the number and pumpage volume ofwhich have not been monitored by any state aut~ority. The result is that the depletion ofthe groundwater table 78 ANITA SONI has been most catastrophic in precisely those areas where farmhouses have proliferated.4 Commercial floriculture, in particular, involves the excessive use of groundwater-four times more than that required for food crops­ and ruins the soil.5 The total number of farmhouses found presently in the Mehrauli and Najafgarh blocks of Outer Delhi exceeds 1800.6 More are anticipated. Of late, there has been an unprecedented boom in the sale and re-sale of farmhouse plots not requiring land-use conversion legalities, thus opening vistas for funher speculation. The metamorphosis of the Mehrauli countryside from an area of undisturbed rusticity into a busy playground of urban commercial interests has taken around forty years. The transition was not smooth at any stage. It has been a turbulent process, changing not only the physical landscape beyond recognition, but also upsetting the rural economy, social hierarchies and the ethos ofvillages. Before proceeding ta explain how this transformation has been achieved, what factors have played a part in it and in which ways different social groups and agencies are implicated, 1 want first ta explain what is meant by the notion of 'urban conquest'.

NEW COLONIALISM OF THE URBAN RICH The twin processes of industrialization and urbanization in developing societies can be viewed from opposingstandpoints. The essentially optimistic assessment of the internal dynamics offast-growing urban conglomerations focuses on the economic advantages and employment opportunities offered by big cities attracting large-scale migration from villages. Conversely, critics and adversaries ofthe 'development ideology', among whom are found sorne eminent social thinkers and environmentalists of the developing world, highlight the predatory and exploitative nature of urban domination over agrarian peripheries. The concept advanced here is Ùlat of 'internai colonialism'. Itis argued that:

The exploitation of man and nature has not ended with the end of western colonialism. Urban-industrial enclaves in countries of the South are now ruthlessly colonising their own hinterlands, mostly settled by subsistence cultures. As in old style colonialism, displacement and dispossession continue to be justified and legitimised in the name of development and progress.7

This critical perspective seems ta be relevant in the Indian context in general, and in the context ofDelhi's urban growth in particular. The agenda ofdevelopment pursued by the rulers ofindependent India both in the era of Nehruvian socialism and in the recent 1990s era of 'Iiberalization', has preserved the colonial legacy of asymmetrical power relations between the dominant urban elite and the vast mass of the rural population. The laws that once served the purposes of the colonial administration now serve the interests of the independent governmen t. URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 79

Foremost among these oppressive laws of colonial vintage is the Land Acquisition Act of 1894. It confers on the State the absolute r~ght to acquire private or common village lands 'for public purpose'. No objection can be made regarding arbitrary definitions of 'public purpose'. Only individual property owners are entiùed to compensation. The amountofcompensation, again arbitrarily decided by the State, is always a small fraction ofthe market value ofthe land in question. Consequenùy, displaced farmers who lose their land in the interestof'public purpose' cannot buyequivalentland elsewhere or establish themselves as respectable self-employed entrepreneurs. They end up as assetless job seekers in the urban-industrial sector. Even more severely hit are the non-property owning sections ofthe rural population; landless labourers, tenant cultivators, catùe grazers, fisherfolk and artisans, ail of whom are dependent on common natural resources, such as forests, pastures, wastelands and water belonging to the village community as a whole. Such people are not entiùed to any compensation when the State appropriates commons under the Land Acquisition Act. Deprived oftheir source oflivelihood, people are often forced to migrate to urban-industrial centres as unskilled wage labourers. The acquisition ofcommon lands by the State has invariably resulted in their commercial exploitation by unscrupulous profiteers. 'Whereas more than 80 per cent ofresources were common in India at the beginning ofthis century, barely 20 per cent remain sa now', according to the weil known environmentallawyer, Chattrapati Singh. 'The benefit<; from common natural resources, whether in hills or in plains, have been almost wholly usurped by the industrial, mercantile, and urban-rich base.'8 Traits of 'internaI colonialism' endorsed by the State representing the economic interests of the urban rich are discernible in the process of metropolization and 'megapolization' of Delhi during the 50 years since independence. They manifest themselves both at a national and locallevel. As the supreme centre of political power, Delhi has assured itself preferential treatment in the allocation of national resources. The Central Plan ouùay for Delhi is more than that for the entire State of Assam, for instance. As for the social and ecological costs ofDelhi's escalating demands for resources, there is no statistical account of them-they are not quantifiable. Delhi's huge and wasteful water consumption and large amounts ofun­ treated industrial effluents and domestic sewage discharged into the , has reduced the great river to a stinkingdrain, and inflicted terrible suffering on millions ofpeople in villages and towns downstream from Delhi, poisoning even undergroundwater in wells.9 Additionally, Delhi's ever-growing demand for electric power is the main factor behind the displacement and dispossession of tens of thousands ofvillagers in , around the Tehri Dam construction site, and in the Singrauli region ofMadhya Pradesh, hosting the World Bank-aided Rihand SuperThermal Power Project, a source of heavy environmental pollution in the surrounding countryside. Of the electric power produced by the Northern Grid 65 per cent is consumed by 80 ANITA SONI

Delhi alone. Itdoes not seem far-fetched to assume that the games ofcynical politicians and their agents encouraging the colossal theft of electricity for domestic and industrial purposes in siums and unauthorized colonies (their crucial vote banks) are played out in the safe knowledge that any deficit that the Government of the National Capital Territory of Delhi may l'un into, will be paid from the national kitty and its burden passed onto the hinterland. The .direct colonization of Delhi's very own hinterland has been motivated primarily by the quest for additional urban space. In this, the government has followed the example set by the British rulers who built New Delhi as their imperial capital, taking away the land of several historic villages in the process. During the British period; about 40 villages were incorporated withinthe urban limits of Delhi. Since Independence, their number has risen to 185. The Land Acquisition Act of 1984 has served throughout as the legal instrument to enlarge urban space at the cost of agriculturallandholdings and village commons. The momentum of metropolitan expansion, especially since the 1960s, has not been created by the government's actions alone. The rural space in the areas near the newly created urban settlements became the target of feverish manipulations on the part of real estate speculators and land developers who lured the farmers into 'profitable' sales of land. As the building industry grew into a veritable empire ofmoney and power, builders' mafias, in collusion with self-serving politicians and government officiais, became active in cornering new chunks ofrural land for the construction of palatial enclaves, housing WIPs and their friends and relatives. The swoop on rural land has practically eliminated the once powerful and assertive landed peasantry of Delhi Territory as a social class. Till the late 1980s, the village panchayats (councils), representing the locally dominant castes Gats, Gujjars or R'tiputs as the case may be) of the respective villages, held sway over the rural areas falling predominantly in Outer Delhi and decided the fate ofpolitical candidates. The old caste loyalties still exist and continue to figure in the electoral calculations of contesting parties, but their social context has changed. At present, in the existing 195 rural villages of the National Capital Territory ofDelhi (90 pel' centofwhich fall in Outer Delhi), there are barely 40,000 families who still possess and cultivate agriculturalland. 1O These are mostly small and marginal farmers, relying on their own family labour (except during the harvest season when they employ others), and although their performance as agriculturists is impressive (with yields ofwheat pel' hectare 37 pel' cent higher than the national average; 1.74 thousand mega tonnes of annual production of food grains, and 6,00,000 mega tonnes of vege­ tables), it does not alter the faet that these 40,000 families-or around 2,00,000 people-dependent on land for their livelihood constitute no more than 15 pel' cent of the total rural population of Delhi, estimated in 1996 at 13,00,000. The vast majority of Delhi's rural population (over 10,00,000) is employed either outside agriculture or is unemployed. Only a few ex-farmers URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 81 who parted with their land, on their own accord or under duress, have ll succeeded in commerce (whether ofthe lawful or unlawful kind ). Others, after making a splash with their sudden fortunes, have ended up as small­ time shopkeepers, auto-rickshaw drivers, factory workers and so on. Many unemployed youths from the rural villages have become petty criminals (Delhi Police records, especially in North-, bear witness to this) , or the hired bodyguards of politicians from amongst their caste-bretht:en. On the whole, large-scale social disruption has been the inevitable consequence of the rapid and ruthless colonization drive in rural Delhi. Those who have suffered most on account of thè acquisition and illegal sale ofgramsabhalands are the landless sections ofthe rural population, belonging to the Scheduled Castes and Other Backward Classes. Non-implementation of the 73rd Amendment of the Constitution, passed in 1992 for the mandatory e1ections of village panchayats in rural areas (including Union Territories), following the supersession of the formerly (1984) elected panchayats by the Delhi Administration in 1990, has deprived these poor and oppressed sections of the opportunity to get their rightful share of representation in local governance at the village level. I2 The old gram panchayats were the preserve oflandowning castes, who fiercely suppressed any stirrings ofassertiveness on the partofthe lower orders ofvillage society. Predictably, the officialdom ofDelhi has always sided with the 'haves' against the 'have-nots'. Implementation of the 73rd Amendment would be the only way of stopping, and even reversing, the illegal sale of commons, by subjecting pradhans (elected village leaders) to scrutiny and public exposure by those \

Community Centres', serving the host villages; 5 per cent has been allotted for the use of the Delhi Police ('Social Security') and various government departments; 7 per cent for parks, and the remaining 90 per cent is to be available as urban space for residential housing, industrial estates, commercial complexes, medical and educational institutions-aIl to be developed through the comprehensive involvement ofprivate sector interests through the sale or lease of respective sites auctioned by the Development Department. ln other words, the Development Department of Delhi Government, formally in charge of rural development, has already stepped into the raie ofan urban development agency, a raie previously monopolized by the Delhi Development Authority. Interestingly, there is a cryptic mention in the text ofthe brochure, that in some areas there has been 'resistance on the part of local pt;ople' against the construction of'multi-purpose' community centres on village land, suggesting that the colonized know they will be exc1uded from sharing the benefits. Delhi's urban spread has already c1aimed the entire National Capital Territory as its land resources reserve and now continues across the state boundaries ofUttar Pradesh and Haryana into the National Capital Region.Ii 'The new Indian landscape' emerging on the Haryana side has been graphically depicted by Baljit Malik:

Ali you need to do is to drive past the aiIport to and . What unfolds is a panorama ofaggressive urbanism-a six-Iane highway with arterial roads cutting into farm lands being bought out by property developers and urban development agencies. True, sarson (mustard) fields of saffron and green are still there, the odd grove ofguava and mango still c1ings to the disappearing soi!. But these are desperate acts ofsurvival before the grinding wheels of the bulldozers of development. Vou can see the bulldozers and trucks in their hundreds as they rip the Aravalli hills apart of their rock, soil and surviving vegetation. Vou can have your nostrils Wied with smoke and dust as new industrial estates are carved out and trees and crops levelled to make way for air-conditioned country resorts and golf courses greened with vicious chemicals...... As the new hi-tech homes, offices and recreation grounds expand into the countryside, an even larger ancillary outcrop of jhuggi-jhonpri colonies cornes into existence to service them. No planning, no infrastructure, no civic services.... Here, then, is where our dispossessed villagers find themselves.15

THE MEHRAULI COUNTRYSIDE: THE SEQUENCE OF CHANGE The specific case of the Mehrauli countryside reflects aIl the general traits ofurban 'colonial' invasion, analysed earlier, butalso has its own peculiarities. It is on these peculiarities that 1 wish to focus, both with regard to the social categories ofpeople defined as 'beneficiaries', 'intermediaries', and 'victims', and to the stages thraugh which the conquest has pragressed. For exem­ plification,I have chosen two separate areas ofthe broadlydefmed Mcmrauli countryside. Both of them are known to me from direct observation over the past ten years. Reconstruction of their earlier history (prior to 1988) is URBAN CONQUEST Of OUTER DELHI 83

based on the oral testimonies and reminiscences of local people, as weil as from the few secondary sources available. 16 One ofthese areas is the stretch south ofMehrauli, from Chattarpur up to the Asola-Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary. II comprises the villages of Satbari, Chandan Hola, Fatehpur Beri, Asola and Bhatti, ail falling in the Mehrauli assembly constituency. 1shall refer to this area as the 'Asola-side'. The other area, situated to the west of Mehrauli, includes the villages of Masoodpur, Rangpuri, Mahipalpur and Rajokri, falling in the Mahipalpur assembly constituency. 1 shall cali this area the 'Rangpuri-side'. Mehrauli, the heritage town dating back ta the Sultanate era, and summer retreat for the Mughal kings and nobles, has fallen on bad times but it has retained its importance for the villages around-both as the tehsil town, seat of the Subdivisional Magistrate (SDM) and as the major commercial centre where villagers make their special purchases of cloth, utensils and sa forth on festive and ceremonial occasions. Before partition, the population of the Mehrauli region had a rich and sophisticated Muslim component. However, today, the old Muslim families who remain here have low social standing. ln the villages ofthe Asola-side, it is the Gujjars who rule the roost. They are feared by other local communities on accountoftheir alleged propensity for bullying and aggressive display of caste solidarity in conflict situations. They were originally a nomadic tribe ofcattle-grazers (as the 'forest Gujjars' in the Uttar Pradesh hills still are). The Gujjars of the north Indian plains were not settled as landed peasants by the British during the nineteenth century. They have never really becorne interested in agriculture, thcir main activity being animal husbandry, the milk and ghee (clarified butter) trade. Buffaloes and cows remain an indispensable part of every Gujjar household. By contrast, theJats, who dominate the rural scene ofthe Rangpuri-side (except for Rajokri, which is another Gujjar dominated settlement) have been hereditary farmers sincc time immemorial. Other caste groups are similarly distributed in bath areas. There are sorne Brahmin farmers and Baniya shopkeepers, bath higher in traditional status thanJats and Gujjars, butoflesser importance. The 'Iow arder' in boili areas include the Scheduled Castes, mainlyJatavs and Balmikis, who jointly constitute about one-fourth ofthe village population, and a smaller number offamilies belonging ta the Other Backward Classes. Till the late 1950s, the villages remained relatively free from urban influence. The rhythm of life was regulated principally by the agricultural cycle-ploughing, sowing and harvesting the wheat and millet crops. Tube­ wells were unheard of and fields were irrigated with the help of the Persian wheel. Most essential items ofeveryday use were produced in and around the village-agricultural implements, earthen utensils, hand-woven cloth, string cots and mats. Religious festivals enlivened the busy routine with a splash of colour and gaiety. Village wells provided the venue for women ta exchange gossip while drawing water in tum, and turbaned eIders gathered in the evenings in the chaupal (community courtyard), passing the hookah around. 84 ANITA SON!

The urban invasion proceeded differenùy in each of the two areas. In the villages of the Asola-side it was triggered off by the Delhi Land Finance Co (DLF) conducting large-scale land purchase operations in entire rural Delhi from the 1950s onward. DLF agents swooped down on Gujjar farmers, taking quick advantage of the difficulties they faced in the rain-dependent cultivation of their fields. The DLF carved cheaply purchased agricultural land into plots ofassorted sizes, provided road connections and electricity, and auctioned these developed estates to city-based, upper-class buyers. The installation ofpower-operated tube-wells enabled the new owners to use the rich subsoil water resources for the greening of their wall-enclosed fancy farms which were cultivated and guarded by hired migrant labourers from eastern Uttar Pradesh. The Rangpuri-side had not been targeted for this purpose at that time. It did not have its first encounter with the Land Acquisition Act until the late 1950s, in the wake ofthe construction ofthe New Delhi airport;>.t Palam, when the Airport Authority of India began to notify large tracts of land­ including sorne in Mahipalpur village. Real estate agents soon leapt in, enticing farmers to sell their land before it became notified for acquisition by the government. Sorne land did change hands at this time, but for many years there was no visible sign of urban colonizers in these villages. In the 1960s and 1970s both areas came under the influence ofanother factor which was to transform their old rural economy, linking it to the urban market. This 'long distance' colonization was conditioned by the rapid growth of the urban construction industry on a scale Delhi had never known before. The growing demand for building materials like granite, sandstone, red sand, silica sand and mica gave rise to the emergence ofa village-based quarrying industry in the entire southern belt of Outer Delhi, from Badarpur in the east to Kapashera in the west. In village after village, the panchayats began to throw open the hilly parts of rsram sabha lands, till then a mixture offorest and pasture, for quarrying operations. Mining permits were issued to private parties by the Delhi Administration through the office ofthe Collector ofMines, while ownership rights over the respective mineral-yielding areas rested with the village panchayats, elected from among landowning castes. This allowed the panchayat members and their kinsmen to act as middlemen, procuring truckloads of minerais from the quarrying sites and supplying them to city buyers. Such middlemen have been given the generic name of'mining contractors'. With the emergence of the lease system in the late 1960s, a whole quarrying area in a village came under the control of a single lease-cum-permit holder, typically the panchayat pradhan himself, who deposited a yearly lump sum with the rsram sabha as lease money, and collected octroi from a large number of individual 'mining contractors', operating under his legal umbrella. Ali over the Rangpuri-side, itwas stone thatwas quarried-and the people who exerted themselves in these tough and dangerous quarrying operations were mostly Rajasthani migrants living with their families in small hamlets surrounded by the rocky wilderness ofthe quarries. Stone quarrying involved URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 85

drilling ho1es in solid rock and blasting it with dynamite. The rocks, which were extracted with the help ofcrowbars and pick-axes, were further pounded by hand with hammers to produce stones ofa marketable size. These were then procured by contractors who made oral agreements with the workers, offering them payment on a piece-work basis (to be paid pel' truckload). The Asola-side had a different type ofquarrying. Here, hidden beneath the earth's surface were rich deposits of bajn (red sand) in rock form. This red sand was extracted from crater-like 'pits' formed through the excavation of rock. The red sand quarries, situated on the common lands ofAsola and Bhatti villages, were worked by two categories of migrant labourers-the 'cutters' and the 'loaders'. The 'cutters' were mostly single males from and Bihar who had come to Outer Delhi, leaving their families behind in their native villages. They did the extractkm work. This consisted of excavating a vertical face of rock with the help of pick-axes whilst being precariously suspended by a rope tied around the waist. The 'loaders' comprised t.wo ethnic groups of traditional earth-craftsmen settled at the quarries and working as family units. Theil' task entailed repeated rounds of descending to the pit-bottom along a steep winding path, with mules or donkeys as carriers, loading the extracted mineraI into sacks and transporting the load on the animaIs' backs up to the pit headP In both types ofquarries the capital input by the contractorswas limited to the purchase and operation ofthe vehicles. The procurement ofmineraIs costvery little: around 5 pel' centofits market value. The workers themselves bore ail occupational expenses (in stone quarries, the main expenditure was on explosives for rock blasting; in red sand quarries, on fodder for animais; in both the purchase and maintenance of tools was the workers' responsibility). They also bore the occupational risks, without any onus of responsibility falling on the contractor for grievous injuries and deaths (from dynamite blasts in stone quarries and pit-wall collapses in the red sand quarries). Most important, the workers had no bargaining power; they had to accept the paymentofa pittance for their labour, because their employers were the owners ofthe territorywhere quarrying sites lay. This exploitation ofquarry labour has been the crucial factor leading to the rise ofa powerful class of intermediaries linked in multiple ways to the needs of the urban market. The formaI takeover of Delhi's quarrying industry by the State in 1976 (through a policy decision of the Delhi Administration to hand over the control and management of aIl mines and quarries to the Delhi State Industrial Development Corporation-DSIDC) succeeded only in adding another set ofmiddlemen from urban backgrounds, who used their official position to strike profitable deals with the village-based contractors. The mines, as the quarries came to be officially called (Rangpuri Stone Mines, Rajokri Stone Mines, Bhatti Bajri Mines), were tacitly understood to operate within the informaI sector. The idea of being subject to the government's control was, in the words of one senior official of the Delhi 86 ANITASONI

State Mineral Development Corporation (DSMDC), which succeeded DSIDC in 1985, 'a legal fiction'. Since the rural areas of De1hi's fringe were treated as un-regulated legal and social space, there was no interference from either the Delhi Administration or the Union Government regarding the abysmal conditions of work, the lack of labour welfare measures, and the environ­ mental havoc being wrought by the haphazard, profit-driven extraction of minerai wealth. 18 Ta compound the lawlessness ofthe quarries, an ancillary stone-grinding industry, comprising hundreds ofsmall units owned by city-based profiteers, was allowed to operate freely for decades, with massive use ofelectric power and without any checkon air pollution from the primitive un-canopied 'stone crushers'. Large concentrations of those barbaric industrial units-exempt from the provisions of the Factory Act (since each of them employed no more than six ta eight workers)-were situated close ta the Harijan settlements of Rajokri, Lai Kuan and Mithapur villages, enveloping whole localities in a haze ofstone dust, and causing incurable respiratory ailments among the population. By the 1990s, the time had come for the quarrying activities in the Union Territory of Delhi ta close down; a suitable ban was issued by the Delhi Administration in 1991 and made operational in 1992. The huge Bhatti Mines complex (Asola-side) was temporarily closed by the Directorate General of Mines Safety in mid-1990, following a fatal accident which claimed several lives). It was never re-opened. Ostensibly, the belated awakening of the Delhi Administration to the need ta preserve the green belt (where all quarries were situated) was the reason for prohibiting further pilferage ofecologically sensitive areas of the southern Ridge. Howevel', subsequent developments in these areas reveal the presence ofother incentives, more patent than environmental concerns. Since 1991 there has been a spurt in the proliferation of new farmhouses, boldly advancing into the (un) Protected Forest area on tht; Ridge and even into the outer zone of the Wild Life Sanctuary (created in 1986 out of the commons ofAsola, Sahurpur, Maidan Garhi and Deoli villages, and extended in 1991 to cover the area of the Bhatti Mines). The colonization of the Mehrauli countryside has come full circle. It would be wrong ta assume that the termination ofquarrying activities in the southern part of rural Outer Delhi has beeri the cause behind the spectacular increase in ùIe number of farmhouses, and in the acreage of ear1ier existing estates (among them, two major religious establishments on the Asola-side: the SantYoga Ashram in Chandan Hola, and the Radhaswamy Satsang in Bhatti) at the cost of gram sabha land. In reality, the deals had been struck much in advance, during the years of the operation of the quarries, formally undel' the control of the government. Vacation by the DSMDC ofits leasehold areas in Bhatti, Rangpuri and Rajokri was expected, and awaited, by the village-based intermediaries, ready to exercise their ownership rights over the land. Manipulation of land records in order to show that the DSMDC leasehold area, and parts of gram sabha land outside URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 87 it, were in fact the private property ofindividual villagers, had been facilitated bya legal provision allowing the exchange ofagriculturalland in possession ofa given farmer againstfour times as much area in the wasteland belonging ta the gram sabha. ln the three decades in which the quarries operated, the intermediaries, for whom the minerai trade was not only the source ofenormous, untaxed profits, but also the means ta develop wide contacts and networks with the metropolitan power structure, showed increasing self-assurance. In their dual capacity as suppliers of raw materials for the capital's biggest and richest industry, and as facilitators ofreal estate transactions in their respective village territories, they have actively fulfilled the 'colonial' agenda of Delhi's metropolitan expansion. At the same time, they have not turned away from their rural identities. Lack of English education has never allowed them to mix with their urban trade partners as sociill equals-although, increasingly, they are sending their children to 'prestigious' English medium schools in the city. For their co-villagers, these middlemen have remained the Chaudharis (Chaudhari being the honorific title denoting originally the hereditary clan leader ofa landowning peasant caste, and later, any member ofsuch caste), and they duly prefix their names with that traditional title. Though now living in urban-style concrete mansions (with drab interiors and conservative women inside), and conversing on mobile phones while moving around in cars, they have nonetheless cultivated their image as 'sons of the soil'. Having amassed wealth and influence, they prepared themselves for entering into the business of politics on their own strength. The 1993 elections to Delhi's first Legislative Assembly brought ample evidence that the new, non-agricultural, rural elite ofOuter Delhi had arrived as a political force. Practically ail the candidates of ail contesting parties had been connected in the past, directly or by proxy, with the minerai trade and real estate business. Electoral campaigning was personality-oriented, and it was the richest candidate who could order the greatest number ofgiant cut-outs to be installed at the cross-roads, organize the biggest rallies and deploy mass communications technology in the most aggressive way, who was able ta impress potential voters. The switch to the BharatiyaJanata Party (BJP) in the previously Congress­ dominated rural areas of Outer Delhi, which has coincided with the attainment of (limited) statehood by the National Capital Territory, reflects the rising aspirations of this new 'urbanized' elite, ready now for a bigger role and no longer willing to play second fiddle to the established power hierarchy of the Congress Party.

THE MARGINALIZED Analysis of the changing socio-economic configuration of the Mehrauli countryside would be incomplete withoutgiving a profile ofthe largestgroup whose cheap labour built the fortunes of the contractors and contributed substantial profits to the Delhi Administration's coffers. 1 have already 88 ANITA SONI indicated the physical conditions of their work in the stone and red sand quarries, and the mode of their employment as piece-rate workers in the informai sector. 1 have also mentioned the primitive un-mechanized 'production system' which allowed their exploitation as unskilled casual labourers to remain unchanged as long as the quarries were in operation, in spite of the official trappings of public sector management under DSIDC (1975-84) and later, DSDMC (1985-91). What remains to be told is the inside story of the quarry workers' lives: how they came and where they were from, what their past backgrounds were, what memories, traditions, attitudes and values they carried, what problems they had to cope with in their everyday existence at the quarrying sites and what prospects awaited them after the closure ofthe Delhi quarries. To answer these questions, let us again turn to the Rangpuri-side and Asola-side to present the specifie cases ofquarry labour settlements still in existence, though precariously so, at the old sites of the Rangpuri Stone Mines and the Bhatti Bajri Mines. The first case is a basti (settlement) ofaround 400 households figuring in the 1993 electoral rails of the Mahipalpur assembly constituency, as a separate polling areawith 1,200 voters under the name Rangpuri Pahar Nala. It is situated on the gram sabha land of Rangpuri village, in the middle of a pahar(vast hill) , divided in two parts by a nala (rain-ehannel). The inhabitants are ail Rajasthanis mainly from the districts ofJhunjhunu, Sikar, Nagaur and Alwar, and the basti has, even now, a decidedly rural Rajasthani flavour­ with women's odhnis and men's turbans in the bright red and yellow colours of the desert-and neat mud-walled courtyards. They belong to different castes and communities, most of whom have become alienated from their . traditional professions. The Ballais (previously weavers, of ancient tribal origin) predominate, followed by the Raigars (leather craftsmen) and the Khatiks (wood-cutters). Tribal communities are represented by the Banjarar (in medieval times prosperous transporters ofgoods) and the Meos ( later converted to Islam. The region of Mewat is named after them). The basti was settled in the 1960s. The first workers came in teams led by their own headmen who arranged for individual mining permits from the Delhi Administration and negotiated their wage terms with the localJat landlords. Later on, new migrants arrived mostly through kinship and village links. Often migration occurred in stages ofmovement from one location to another, as people searched for a place providing regular employment opportunities. Many workers of Rangpuri Pahar Nala maintained an amphibious relationshipwith their native villages (circular migration), working for about six months in the quarries then leaving for their villages during the summer and monsoon seasons which were slack periods at the quarries and coincided with important agricultural and festive seasons in the villages. In several instances employment in the quarries allowed the workers to rise in social status in their native villages where they invested their savings in the construction of large houses-symbols of the new aspirations of their communities. URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 89

At the quarry sites their life was full of stress. Subjugation by local contractors became more oppressive as the latter grew in economic status (initially they did not possess vehicles other than bullock carts) and took advantage of the workers' financial hardships by advancing peshgis (loans) payable by deduction from already meagre earnings. Indebtedness to 'contractors' created conditions akin to bandage labour, lowering the self­ respect of the workers' communities and inviting sundry attempts at the sexual exploitation of their wives and daughters. It was largely in order to counter this menace that help was soughtfrom the prominent human rights activist, Swami Agnivesh, to form a labour union in the area. The quarrying sites were not provided with even basic amenities like drinking water. Women-who also worked at the quarries, breaking granite stones with 12 kg hammers to produce rodi (gravel) had to trek to far away wells in the fields of Rangpuri village to fetch their supplies. Similarly, food provisions had ta be brought from the village market. Only in the late 1980s did the workers succeed, with help from voluntary bodies, in securing ration cards (and along with them voting rights), and sanction for a few deep bore wells from the SIum Wing ofthe DDA (now under the Municipal Corporation of Delhi-MCD). An informaI school and part-time health centre were provided on behalfof the Institute ofSocial Sciences, New Delhi. • The Rangpuri stone mines had been leased out by DSIDC to a private party, the pradhan of Rangpuri village, who at one point obtained a stay­ order from the District Court against the increased octroi rates payable to DSIDC, and assumed independent ownership rights by default. The ,: government officiaIs continued, however, to attend their office in a small building at the Rangpuri Stone Mines Complex Check-Post, maintaining good relations with the pradhan and other local intermediaries. 1t paid them well in the end, when after the closure of the Rangpuri quarries, they acted as conduits to attract VIP buyers of gram sabha land. At present the Rangpuri Pahar Nala basti is surrounded by a sea of farmhouses (the biggest ofthem raising its towering wall right at the edge of the basti which partakes of its illicit electricity connection). Il is in these farmhouses that the former stone miners ofRangpuri find employmentnow as construction labourers and as menials doing oddjobs in flower nurseries. Sorne of them are transported in batches by agents of land developers to work for daily wages in Gurgaon and other places in Haryana where construction activity is currently at its peak. The case ofthe labour villages in the Bhatti Mines area is more dramatic. In a bizarre turn ofevents, the three decades old, properlyestablished human settlements with their unmistakable rural ambience have been officially construed as 'encroachment by sIum dwellers' on the land of the 'Wildlife Sanctuary', notified in 1991 out of the mammoth complex of red sand quarries, which had suddenly been-closed'one year earlier on grounds of being unsafe. The worker-settlers-now defined as 'squatters'-are to be relocated as per the Supreme Courtorder of9 April 1996, to a site earmarked by the authorities on the gram sabha land ofJaunapur village which, while 90 ANITA SONI

being a part of the same ecological space, falls outside the 'notified Ridge' in the zone left open for urban colonization. (Out of the total 6,200 ha area of the southern Ridge, as much as 2,030 ha have been cornered by farm­ houses, and 200 ha are owned by government agencies promoting non­ forest land use projects.) Peaceful but resolute protests voiced by the Bhatti Hill settlers in the form of several rallies and dharnas (forms of public protest) with support from social activists of the National Alliance of People's Movements and Joint Women's Programme, and with instant endorsement by leading environmentalists from Delhi, has temporarily delayed execution ofthe court order but the implementing agencies-the SIum Department of the MCD and the ForestDepartmentofthe Delhi Government-have not abandoned their efforts ta get the 'encroachers' evicted. The moot point is that the SIum Department of the MCD has already received around Rs. 300 million sanctioned by the Expenditure Finance Committee, Ministry of Finance, , for the 'mode!' relocation project, and money has been paid in advance to various contractors for developing the site. On Bhatti Hill, there are three labour villages close to the Haryana border, known as Sanjay Colony, Balbir Nagar and Indira Nagar with 7,000 registered voters. They were settled in the late 1960s and formally established as 'DSIDC Labour colonies' in 1975 by the then Lt Governor of Delht, Jagmohan, at the instance of the late Sanjay Gandhi. In subsequent years, the worker-settlers secured, step by step, important civic amenities like fair price shops, schools (primaryand secondary), a hospital, a regular bus service and electricity. The endemic shortage of water in the area-the quarry workers had to buy water from private operators to meet their daily requirements, increased by the presence of work animaIs in every household-was sought to be tackled by the laying of an e!aborate piped water network, completed in 1992, but effectively sabotaged by the private water sellers. The loaders, who constitute the bulk of the population in the three villages, and remained in residence when the unattached cutters moved out to other places after the closure ofthe mines, comprise mainly twO groups-­ the Odh and the Kumhar. The Odh, a caste of hereditary earth diggers, were once nomadic tribals who spread in medieval times from to Orissa. They have functioned as rural engineers for centuries, known and praised as skilful constructors ofindigenous rain harvesting systems: ponds, lakes, check-dams and canals, which were the base for irrigation before the advent oftube-wells. Even today, the Odh find employment as a specialized category ofconstruction workers engaged in digging operations (basements of high-rise buildings, underground passages in Delhi have always been d ug by Odh labourers who work as family units, women alongside men, and keep donkeys to transport the load). The 17 Odh gotras (clans) found at the Bhatti Mines migrated from Sindh and as refugees in 1947, and worked at several major construction projects in northern India before settling down in Bhatti where, for the first time in their tribal history, they founded a village URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 91 of their own called Bhagirath Nagar (later renamed Sanjay Colony). The other group found in large numbers in ail three labour villages are the Kumhar, a weil known artisan caste of clay potters, calling themselves Prajapat (after the divine clay moulder of Hindu mythology). Once an indispensable component of every village, now displaced from their hereditary occupation and native habitats by the relentless pressure ofmarket forces, the Kumhars are proud of tbeir ancient heritage and painfully conscious oftheir degraded status as anonymous 'unskilled' wage labourers. The Kumhars settled in the Bhatti Mines area hail from the Alwar and Bharatpur districts ofRajasthan and the Rewari and Mahendergarh districts of Haryana. The women know several crafts besides pottery decoration (operating the potter's wheel being the men's preserve), and the whole community possesses a keen aesthetic sense. Both the Odh and the Kumhar families living at the Bhatti Mines regard themselves as respectably settled villagers. Drudgery in the quarries has been their means ofearning a livelihood-an occupational choice related to their .hnic past as earth craftsmen. Over the years they have built for themselves neat rural-style dwellings, both mud cottages and brick structures (the latter being a status symbol), with wide courtyards, enclosures and sheds for animais (mules being- more sturdy were of greater use in deep quarrying pits than donkeys, but also very expensive to keep) and planted trees around for cool shade. The trees are cherished as household members, and new saplings regularly watered in spite ofprevailing arid conditions. The past seven years of desperate survival struggle since the loss of regular employment at the Bhatti Mines have been marked by the increasing misery, indebtedness and marginalization ofthese workers. SinceJune 1990, they have spread far and wide in search of employment, primarily in the red sand quarries of the adjoining district of Haryana, but also in sundry construction sites and brick kilns ail over the National Capital Territory-all the while holding on firmly to their homesteads at the Bhatti Mines. As years pass they find that employment opportunities in traditional quarrying have shrunk under the impactofmechanization. Most families have been forced to dispose oftheir mules and come down to the level ofassetless casuallabourers hiring themselves out for stone pounding, carrying head loads, doing paltryjobs at godowns and farmhouses in the surrounding area. Needless to say, no employment prospects have been visualized for them at the resettlement site in Jaunapur where they are unlikely to settle. They might at the most, sell the tiny plots proposed to be allotted to them against the payment of Rs. 10,000 and depart on furtherjourneys in search ofwork and dignity. In the meantime, the Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary even more fictitious than the adjoining Asola Wildlife Sanctuary, notified back in 1986, and, unlike the latter, not demarcated by a boundary wall or even wire fence, has been serving as a thoroughfare for heavy, smoke-spoutingvehicles carrying minerai loads from the Haryana quarries and illegal mining areas within the National Capital Territory. The troubled legacy of the Bhatti Mines will not be easily forgotten. 92 ANITA SONI

CONCLUSION 1 have attempted to trace the underlying regular patterns of domination and coercion (administrative as well 'as socio-economic) in the apparenùy spontaneous process of the urbanization of Delhi's rural environs during the 50 years of India's Independence. These patterns reveal colonial-style asymmetrical power relations between the expansionist urban elite (co-opting the emergent rmal commercial class) and the subjugated hinterland. The inherited colonial structure and outlook of the state administration, along with the continuation of unchanged coloniallaws, reinforce this inequality whilst middlemen from rural elites enable il. ln the southern parts of Outer Delhi, direct colonization by the urban elite has been taking place. Important patterns of change include: mono­ polization by the upper class of the 'select' prime areas (as opposed ta the large motley peripheries in the north-west and east Outer Delhi); transformation of the once rural belt of the 'Mehrauli countryside' into a quintessential 'farmhouse belt'; the large-scale involvement ofthe local rural elite as intermediaries in real estate speculation; and the success ofthis ruMt elite in appropriating the village commons in the Ridge area for commercial sale, initially of mineraI resources, and finally, of the land itself. These developments, unfailingly condoned by government agencies, concurred with well-defined actions ofthe Delhi Administration (since 1993, the Government of the National Capital Territory of Delhi) targeting the whole of rural Delhi: the incessant drive to create additional metropolitan space through the forcible acquisition of agriculturalland; the earmarking ofwhole tracts in the green rural belt for the dense, ill-planned resetùement of urban sIum dwellers; and the arbitrary supersession of village panchayats in order to take over the common lands of remaining 'rural villages'. Both in its actions, and in its inaction, the Delhi Government has been serving the interests of the 'colonizers' in dispossessing, displacing and banishing the surviving remnants of the old agrarian society from the colonized territories. The injustice and humiliation heaped on the people of the Bhatti Mines is just one example of il.

NOTES

1. SeeJayati Ghosh, The Expansionist City', The Frontline, Chennai: 20 May 1994. p. llO. 2. A reeent press report guotes a senior official of the Delhi Eleetrieity Board eonfessing to his helplessness in eurtailing massive power theft by resident owners ofSainik Farms: Their modus operandi is simple-a thiek wire eneased in a PVC pipe runs beneath the boundary wall into the house. The other end of the wire is eonneeted to the street light. ... Ali of them steal power for so many air-eonditioners, refrigerators, 1V sets and absolutely latest gadget. ... But they somehow get to know beforehand about the raids and switeh on their generators when we strike.' Gaurav C. Sawant, 'The Bijli Burglars who Live in Farmhouses', lrulian EXfiress Newsline, New Delhi, 15.Tuly 1997. 3. For a photographie evoeation of Delhi's urban villages. see Charles Lewis and Karoki Lev.~s, Delhi Historie Villages: A Pholo{.,'ra/lhie Evocalion, New Delhi: Ravi Dayal Publishers, 1994. URBAN CONQUEST OF OUTER DELHI 93

4. The deteriorating ground water situation in the capital, especially in the Mehrauli and Najafgarh blacks, was assessed by the Central Ground Water Board in 1995 and attributed to 'excessive pumpage in residential areas and farmhouses'. The Chief Secretary, Government ofNCf, Delhi, P. V.Jayakrishnan, stated in the Supreme Court: 'The number oftube-wells installed in Delhi and the quantity ofwater being drawn by them is not being maintained or regulated by any single authority of the Govt of Delhi and MCD has no control over the installation of tube-wells.' Manisha Deveshvar, 'Groundwater Table Fast Depleting in Capital', lruiian Express, 19 August 1995. 5. Devinder Sharma, 'A Choice Between Flower and Food', lruiian Express, 12 March 1998. 6. The estimate according to Delhi Police sources, in connection with a spate of attacks on defenceless servants in farmhouses falling within the South-West Zone and the outcry of the owners demanding better police protection. {Unlike urban farmhouses usually inhabited by the owners, the countryside farmhouses have hired employees as the only occupants in the owners' absence.} Agency report in lruiùmt:'xpress, New Delhi, 25 February 1998. 7. Claude Alwares, Science, Development and Violence: The Twilight 0/Modèrnity, New Delhi: OUP, 1992, p. 21. 8. Chattrapati Singh, The Fral/leWOTk ofEnvironmental Laws in India, New Delhi: INTACH, 1993, p. 6. 9. See Dwijen Kalia, 'The Murder of a River', in Anil Agarwal and Sunita Narain {eds}, Dying Wisdom: RiJe, FaU and Potential 0/ India:S Traditional Water Harvesting Systems, New Delhi: Centre of Science and Environment, 1997, p. 78: 'The city engineers instead of laying down sewers, simply discharge the polluted water into the 19 channels that originate in the Aravali hills. At one time these channels acted as streams for draining off rainwater, and in the process recharged many wells. . .. However, now these channels carry more industrial pollutants and domestic sewage than rainwater. As a result, on their way to the Yamuna, they poilute ail the water bodies.' 10. This and the next figures regarding the agricultural component of rural Delhi are taken from the November 1997 publicity brochure of the Government of NCT, Delhi, Development Department. The population figures are from 'Delhi Data', Indian t.xpress Newsline, 13 February 1997. Il. See Tarun Bose, 'Power Games in {Un}Authorised Colonies', Mainstream, 1996. 12. For further details on the implementation ofthe Panchayati Raisystem, see MA. Ommen, Panchayati Rai Development Report 1995, New Delhi: Institute of Social Sciences, 1996. 13. Government of NCT, Delhi, Development Department, Sardar Patel Gramodaya Yoina­ Mini Mas/er Plan/OT Rural Delhi, Progress 0/ Schernes at a Glance, 1997. 14. Commenting on the theme of this paper, the discussant, Professor Mohammad Talib, pointed to a parallel from American history where the continuously advancing 'frontier' was seen as the dividing line between 'civilization' {represented by robust white pioneers} and 'savagery'. He further observed that 'Delhi's civilisational fronlier treats the villages on its margin as an unregulated legal and social space', allowing for several violations. The unstated implication of the perceived analogy across the historical and geographical differences, is that the 'pioneers' pushing onwards into 'enemy country', assumed the right to grab the land, exploit the natural resources, and rob the 'natives' oftheir cultural heritage. The nineteenth century ethnocide of North American aborigines, and the contemporary destruction of peasant and tribal habitats and cultures in India have had at their root similar civilizational arrogance. In the latter case, the pioneers need not even be 'robus!'; the conquest is fully programmed by global techno-capitalism. 15. Baljit Malik, 'Downside of the Mantra of Liberalization', lndùm Express, 4.July 1995. 16. Primila Lewis' narrative {Primila Lewis, Social Action and the Labouring Poor: An Experience, New Delhi: Vistaar Publications, 1991} contains plenty of factual information on developments in the Mehrauli countryside since the early 1970s, especially in Mandi village where the 'Action India' voluntary group organized a cooperative ofquarr)' workers and helped local Harijans to get possession ofgram sabha land. The PUCL investigative report {PUCL Bulletin April 1983, special issue on: The Saruis o/Death: A Case Study 0/ Bhatti Mines, 94 ANITA SONI

published by Inder Mohan for People's Union for Civil Liberties, New Delhi) andJustice V.S. Deshpande's Court of Enquiry Report (GovL of India, The Gazette, 1983) depict the situation in Bhatti Bajri Mines in the early 1980s. Professor Mohd. Talib's (Department ofSociology,, University, New Delhi) doctoral dissertation titled: 'SOIne Social Aspects of Class Formation Among the Migrant Labour: A Case of a Labour Settlement in Delhi', submitted in 1988 but unfortunately neVer pubhshed, presents a sensitive penetrating analysis of the socio­ economic and psychological reality of migrant workers in the stone quarries of Tughlakabad, c. 1984. 17. For further details on the conditions of quarry workers, see Indira Chakravorty andJyoti Mudgal, Conditions of Quany Workers in Delhi, New Delhi: Centre for Education and Communication, 1991. 18. The only high-level intervention occurred in 1983 wh:on after a spate offatal accidents in the Bhatti Mines, the Ministry of Labour, Government of India, appointed a Court of Inquiry underjustice V.S. Deshpande. His famous report, entitled 'From Private to Public Interest', severely indicted the 'illegality and immorality' of the system of operating the mines, condoned by the DSIDC, and gave several precise recommendations for safeguarding public interest 'firstly in the welfare of the labourworking in the mines, and secondly, the scientific exploitation ofvaluable national resources' [Report by the Court ofInquiry under S. 24 (4), Mines Act 1952 Oustice V.S. Deshpande, former ChiefJustice, ): From Private to Public Interesi, GovL of India, The Gazette, New Delhi, 20 August, 1983]. But the recommendations of the Deshpande Report were never implemented, except for the reorganization of the mining department ofDSIDC to form a 'new' managerial entity, the Delhi State Mineral Development Corporation (DSMDC), eVen more corrupt than the previous one. PART II PEOPLE AND GOODS ON THE MOYE 1

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Images and Voices ofTransport Workers in üld Delhi

SYLVIE FRAISSARD

ln the heart of the commercial centre of üld Delhi, thousands of people earn their livelihood in the transportindustry, carrying passengers and goods in an amazing variety of vehicles. We have identified at least 14 different methods oftransport. Whetherworking on foot, by horse, cycle or car, each transporter performs a very specifie function. Here 1would like to introduce 14 transportworkerswho speak to us ofthe advantages and disadvantages of their particularjobs.

* Interviews and photographs: Sylvie Fraissard; interpreter and translator: Dhanal~ayTingal.

Plate 5.1 KULBIR SINGH 48 years old. Delhi Transport Corporation Bus Driver. Native place: Vishnugarh, Delhi.

'If we speak sweeùy to our passengers, then they will speak sweeùy to us. 1 have no problem with my work.' Plate 5.2 DHARt\1A 40 years old. Goods Cycle Rickshaw PuHer, Native place: Mahendragarh (Haryana). Migrated to Delhi ten years back.

'There were lots of people pulling hand carts in this area so l decided to take up rickshaw pulling instead. No one bothers me on this job.' Plate 5.3 SONA 37 years old. Hand Cart Puller. Native place: Sikar (Rajasthan). Migrated to Delhi twenty years back.

'When you don't have ajob, you are forced to take up any kind ofwork,just to fill YOUf stomach.' Plate 5.4 SRIRAM 58 years old. Horse Cart Puller. Naùve place: Delhi.

'There is no other work available and we have to earn. If 1 did not do this job, then from where would 1 get my bread? There is lots of misery in this work.' Plate 5.5 RAJNATH TRlPATHI 22 years old. Auto Rickshaw Driver. Native place: Gorabhpur (Uttar Pradesh). Migrated to Delhi twelve years back.

'1 am not happy doing this. Hunger has forced me to il. 1 am educated and want to get a governmentjob orwork in a factory. But it's impossible without someone to push you up.' PI"tf' 56 RAJENDER PRASAD 40 years old. Blue Line Bus Driver. Native place: (Uttar Pradesh): Migrated to Delhi twelve years back.

'There is a lot ofcompetition in Blue Line buses; the owner wants his money every evening. Ifwe have not earned much, then we get a scolding.· Plate 5.7 JITENDER SINGH 25 years old. Bullock Cart Driver. Native place: Etah (Uttar Pradesh). Migrated to Delhi twelve years back.

'1 like this work. In this we are masters ofour own will and no one can boss us about or trouble us.' Plate 5.8a Khari Baoli Bazaar.

Plate 5.9a Ajmeri Gate. Plate 5.8b Khari Baoli Bazaar.

Plate 5.9b Ajmeri Gate. Plate 5.10 KULDEEP SINGH 48 years old. Four Seater Driver (Phut-Phut). Native place: Delhi.

'Now the only problem is increasing traffie beeause of whieh we have ta drive very carefully.' Plate 5.11 DEEPAK DE 23 years old. Passenger Cycle Rickshaw Puller. Native place: Murshidabad (West ). Migrated to Delhi two months back. '1 only came here ta earn money and will not stay in Delhi for ever. 1 want enough money ta be able to return to my village and open a sweet shop.' Plate 5.12 GUlAB KUMAR CHAUDHARY 20 years old. Taxi Driver. Native place: Darbhangah (Bihar). Migrated ta Delhi four years back.

'1 don't have a ration card or an identity card.1 don't even have a house. This taxi is my home and this is where 1 sleep.' Plate 5.13 OMVIR SINGH 48 years old. Tempo Driver. Native place: Mathura (Uttar Pradesh). Migrated to Delhi twenty-five years back.

'There is no futurein this occupation, especially in Delhi. There is no union of drivers and coolies, so they are easily exploited. Jobs and earnings are given according to caste.' Plate 5.14 VIRPAL 20 years old. School Rickshaw Driver. Native place: Barelly (Uttar Pradesh). Migrated to Delhi three years back.

'This work is a big responsibility. The children have to be taken care of. The rickshaw has to be driven carefully and the kids have to be fetched and carried on time.' Plate 5.15 SRINIVAS 35 years old. Three Wheeler Goods Carrier. Native place: Meerut (Uttar Pradesh). Migrated to Delhi seven years back.

'We get trouble from the police in many places. They take bribes. Ifwe don't give them, they fine us for no reason.' Plate 5.16 VIJAYKUMAR 30 years old. Truck Driver. Native place: Kangra (). Migrated to Delhi four years back.

'Since l am far away from home, anyway, it does not make any difference if l'm on my truck, or in Delhi or in Mumbai.' 6

Mobility Patterns and Economie Strategies ofHouseless People in Old Delhi

VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

The sight ofpeople sleeping at nighton the pavements in large Indian cities like Delhi, Mumbai, Calcutta and Chennai conjures up an image ofextreme poverty. More than any other categoryofthe population, pavementdwellers appear to be living in conditions ofacute deprivation from shelter and basic services; and itis no surprise to hear them being described as 'the unfortunate victims of diverse kinds of physical and social crisis among our rural and urban societies'.1 At the macro-Ievel the presence and increase of the shelterless population in big cities has been analysed as 'an inevitable out­ come of the urbanization process',2 a consequence ofindustrialization and economic development which induces the migration of the rural poor to major cities leading to a pressure on both land and housing.3 While it is not my purpose to deny this side of the reality, 1would like to propose a more qualified appraisal of the practice of pavement dwelling and to show how the smdy of houseless people can also highlight other dimensions ofthe process of metropolization. In the same way that 'rural to urban' migrants should not be considered merely as pawns pushed and pulied by macro-economic forces but also as actors in a position to shape the urbanization process, so pavement dwellers in big cities should not be considered merely as the victims ofdire poverty, but also as dynamic agents capable of implementing their own economic strategies and of finding appropriate responses ta specific urban environments. Fùrthermore, the houseless migrants surveyed in Old Delhi exemplify how population mobility contributes to the restructuring ofgeographical space by transcending the rural/urban dichotomy. As observed in many developing cities, there is a process offunctional integration between the metropolis and the settlements of its catchment area as the result of circular migration and the attendant flows of money, goods, information and ideas.4 Admittedly, the shelterless migrants are not the only ones to practise this form of mobility between their native villages and the city of their in-migration: such a type ofcircular mobility is also observed among migrants settled in siums or among those belonging to the higher socio-economic strata." Nevertheless, the residential 100 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT practices ofthe houseless population, perhaps more than those ofany other category ofcity dweller, highlight a vision of the city as a space reshaped by migrants: 'a space of movement that envisages the city not as a place of sedentariness, but as a cross-roads of mobility'.6 In line with this perspective, this essay aims to investigate the mobility patterns and economic strategies ofshelterless people who sleep in the streets ofOld Delhi atnight through adetailed micro-Ievel analysis oftheir situation. At the same time, the specific focus on the shelterless people of the Walled City of Delhi-the historical core of the capital-allows us to illustrate the relationship between the transformation of urban space, population move­ ments and social recomposition, and to show how urban space is subject to competing interests. The findings of this essay are based on primary data from my own socio-economic surveys: these are ouùined in the paragraphs that follow along with a brief review of other available data, which suggests the need for reflection on the concept ofhouselessness.

CONCEPT OF HOUSELESSNESS AND SOURCES OF DATA Secondary Data Available Although the pavement dwellers are generally perceived as 'the poorest of the urban poor'7 the issue of houselessness is often overlookedR in the abundant literature dealing with the urban poor and the urbanization problems.9 Primary survey data is relatively scarce10 as compared to the numerous studies of the inhabitants of siums and squatter setùements. In particular, there is a striking absence of research which deals specifically with the pavementdwellers ofthe capital city ofDelhi. 11 A direct consequence of this paucity is a lack of accurate information about this segment of the population. Even its number remains in doubt: 22,516 according to the 1981 Census and about 50,000 according to the 1991 Census. 12 These figures are obviously underestimates, due in part to the problems of identifying and enumerating this specific segment of the population during census operations, which devote litùe time to this category ofpeople.13 According to a more realistic estimate provided by the Sium and Jhuggi:Jhonpri Department of the Delhi Development Authority in 1985, the number of houseless people in Delhi is approximately 1 per cent ofits total population. This would mean about 1,00,000 persons in the mid-1990s. The heaviest and most conspicuous concentrations of pavement dwel­ lers are found in the Old city and its extensions, where the Municipality has-Iogically-opened 10 of its 18 night shelters (6 in the Walled City proper). These represent three quarters of the total sleeping capacity of about 4,500 spaces provided for shelterless people in the entire urban agglomeration. As expounded in the next section, the morphological and economic characteristics of the historical core of the capital city contri­ bute to its specific attraction to a floating population without shelter. The decision to focus this investigation on pavement dwellers in Old Delhi was influenced by these factors. MOBILllY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 101

The Concept ofHouselessness Apart from the problem of widely diverging numerical estimates, another difficulty with the secondary data on the houseless population of Delhi­ and indeed of other cities-is the absence of consensus regarding terminology. Various terms are used: 'homeless', 'houseless', 'roofless', 'shelterless' people or 'pavement dwellers', but these do not always cover the same group ofpopulation. Furthermore, the same term may de defined quite differently in different studies. For instance, in studies on pavement dwelling, while sorne focus specifically on 'truly shelterless persons',14 others also include pavement dwellers with sorne kind of temporary shelter,15 and in certain studies on Delhi, the inmates ofmunicipal night shelters are also included. J6 The Census oflndia uses the notion of 'houseless population', defined as persons who are not living in 'census houses', the latter referring to 'a structure with roof'; hence the enumerators are instructed 'to take note of the possible places where the houseless population is likely to live such as on the roadside, pavements, in hume pipes, under staircases, or in the open, temples, mandaps, platforms and the like'.17 It is worth pointing out that similar problems of reliable estimation and clear definition of the houseless population are also encountered in surveys conducted in American and European cities. 18 As rightly noted by Bienveniste, 'Homelessness is not a characteristic that defines a sub-group, but rather a situation common to heterogeneous populations at sorne time in their lives. '19 This also points to two major characteristics of this segment of the urban population: its heterogeneity and mobility (as this essay will highlight), not to mention the invisibility ofcertain sections of it.

Specifie Survey ofHouseless People Condueted in Old Delhi ln this study of houseless people in Old Delhi, the population under focus consists ofpersons without any form ofshelter of their own, in other words those who sleep at night on the pavements (entirely in the open or partly protected by verandas), in other open spaces or in night shelters run by the municipality and who do not have any personal fixed abode in the city. Persons who squat on the pavements by erecting temporary constructions or structures are hence outside the scope of this study; in any case, such situations are usually not found within the Walled City on which my surveys have been focused. While presenting the findings of this case study, 1 shaH refer to the population surveyed by using the terms 'houseless' people, 'shelterless' people or 'pavement dwellers' interchangeably.2u 1deliberately avoid using the term 'homeless' since it implies not only a situation of deprivation in terms of shelter but also a loss of familial moorings. This term is commonly used in the North American context where it may correspond to social reality,21 but, as we shaH see, it is inappropriate in the context of Indian cities where houselessness does not necessarily mean homelessness. The concept offamily stretches beyond the limits ofa simple 'household' or 'home' in the Indian context where familial segments may 102 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

be spatially scattered, but tightly linked through economic and emotional ties. Thus, l use here the terms 'shelterlessness' or 'houselessness' to refer to a concrete situation (the lack of physical shelter) in a specifie place at a given time (in Delhi during the period ofobservation); but it must be borne in mind that the situation currently observed in Delhi does not necessarily represent a permanent state and it may be compatible with the existence of a house and/or a home somewhere else (especially in the native village). The research on which this study is based was composed oftwo types of surveys: a statistical survey carried out in January-March 1996, covering a total sample of 248 individuals selected by area sampling from the main concentrations of pavement dwellers in the Walled City and the six night shelters run by the municipality in the same area; and in-clepth interviews conducted simultaneously with a sub-sample of 36 individuals that were randomly selected.22

THE WALLED CITYOF OLD DELHI: THE TRANSFORMATION OF URBAN SPACE AND POPULATION MOVEMENT The Walled City of Old Delhi, otherwise known as Shahjahanabad-the historie core built by the Mughals in the seventeenth J:entury-exhibits features typical of traditional Indian cities, with a mixed land-use pattern combining a high concentration of residential units with an important aggregation of commercial and small-scale manufacturing establishments. However, what is remarkable in the case ofOld Delhi are the extremely high residential densities (on average 616 persons per hectare in the Walled City in 1991, with a maximum of 1596 in one of the census divisions) combined with an equally impressive congestion of economic activities.

Population Deconcentration and the Intensification ofEconomie Activities This situation is in fact the result ofa two-pronged process which has affected the dynamics and urban morphology ofthe old city core. On the one hand, there has been a decline in the resident population, first noticeable in certain areas during the decade 1961-71,23 and which has since continued to spread. Hence, although the present residential densities are still excessively high in the Walled City, they were significantly higher in 1961, with an average of about 740 persons per hectare. But at the same time, the Walled City has recorded a dramatic increase in the number ofits commercial establishments (shops, workshops, warehouses and wholesale markets) as well as manu­ facturing workshops, including noxious industries and hazardous trades. For example, the number ofregistered commercial establishments increased by 700 per cent in two decades, from 22,000 units in 1961 to 1,55,000 units in 1981.24 Moreover, as Mehra has rightly underlined,25 the official statistics underestimate the extent ofthis growth in economic activities, since they do not include the informaI sector of employment. MOBIUTY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 103

While the decongestion ofthe population from the urban core is in line with one of the objectives of the Delhi Master Plan-although the actual extent of the population decrease remains far below that initially proposed26-the proliferation of commercial and industrial activities is in directcontradiction with the objectives ofurban planners. Thus, in the 1990 Master Plan, we read: 'in case ofthe Walled City, the objective is to clean the area from noxious and hazardous industries and trades to check further commercialization and industrialization of this area and to revitalize the same to its glory ofthe past'.27 In fact, these recommendations ofthe Master Plan, perspective 2001 (published in 1990) provide ample evidence of the failure of the earlier 1962 Plan, and highlight instead the significant role of private actors, whose economic rationale goes againstinstitutional intentions.

The Transformation ofUrban Morphology and Social Recomposition The overuse ofthe physical space and building infrastructure in the Walled City-both in terms of residential and economic use-has contributed to the degradation of its housing stock. However, the 'cycle of deterioration' was at the outset a perverse outcome of rent control policies which led to inadequate income generation, thereby discouraging landlords from incurring expenses in maintaining their buildings.28 As time went on, practically aIl areas ofthe Walled City became classified as 'sIums' under the SIum Areas (Improvement and Clearance) Act of 1956. The transformation ofthe urban morphology ofthe Walled City and its decaying housing conditions must also be understood in relation to the social recomposition of the residing population. The better off sections of the population have tended to move outofthe old city, in search ofbetter housing conditions in less congested residential areas, leaving behind mainly people from low-income groups, in particular tenants who would not be able to afford alternative accommodation elsewhere in the urban agglomeration.29 Besides, the proliferation ofcommercial and manufacturing activities, along with the related services which provide a large number of informaI job opportunities, has attracted a floating population of male migrant workers whoseresidential integration remains extremely precarious.30 Thus, at night many of them are found sleeping under the verandas in , on pavements and other open grounds, or in night shelters run by the municipalityfor houseless people. The fact that the two main railway stations and the main inter-state bus terminal are located within the Walled City or in its immediate vicinity has also played a role in contributing not only to the general economic buoyancy of the old city and increased employment opportunities in the area, but also to the movement patterns of shelterless migrants. Vpon their arrivaI in the city, they are in immediate proximity to (or easily directed to) locations where opportunities for unskilled labour are high, and where sleeping space can be found in pavementdwelling areas or in night shelters. 104 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

The Economie Functions ofthe Old City and Occupational Opportunities for the Houseless The different types of occupations performed by the houseless people surveyed show how the economic functions ofOld Delhi are direcùy reflected in the major occupational groups of this population (Table 6.1). There is first of ail the large category of handcart pullers and pushers transporting goods in and out of the wholesale markets of the old city (24 per cent ofthe respondents were engaged in this work as their principle occupation). Loading and unloading activities in the markets, and the carriage ofluggage to and from the two main railway stations also provide considerable employment opportunities for the pavement dwellers. The transport of passengers by cycle rickshaw in this densely populated and very buoyant market area, with two adjoining railway stations and the inter-state bus terminal, is another activity attracting a significant number of houseless workers (20 per centofrespondents cited it as their main activity). AItogether, the sector oftransport seems ta absorb the majority ofthe houseless workers based in the Walled City (52 per cent of respondents cited it as their main activity). This would appear to be a m;yor distinctive characteristic of the occupational structure of this shelterless population, as compared to the male population of m'ban Delhi as a whole, but also as compared to the

TABLE 6.1. OCCUPATIONAL PATTERN OF THE HOUSELESS POPULATION OF OLD DELHI, 1996

Occupation Main Olher Ail occu/Ja/ion occupations occupations

No. % No. % No. %

Clerical workers 2 0.8 2 0.6 Sales workers (vendors, shop assistants) lO 4.1 1 1.2 11 3.4 Cooks, waiters and related workers 54 22.2 46 56.1 lOO 30.8 Other service workers (domestic servants, barbers, etc.) 2 0.8 2 2.4 4 1.2 Production workers including mechanics and repairmen 16 6.6 2 2.4 18 5.5 Construction workers including painters 22 9.1 7 8.5 29 8.9 Loaders, unloaders and porters 21 8.6 lO 12.2 31 9.5 Handcart pushers or pullers 58 23.9 7 8.5 65 20.0 Cycle rickshaw drivers 48 19.8 6 7.3 54 16.6 Other drivers (motor vehicle) 1 0.4 1 1.2 2 0.6 Rag pickers 5 2.1 5 1.5 Beggars 3 1.2 3 0.9 Other workers 1 0.4 1 0.3 Total 243 100.0 82 lOO.O 325 lOO.O

Non-workers = 5. The occupations taken into account include aIl types of work carried out in Delhi during the 12 months preceding the survey. Hence those occupations carried out outside Delhi during the reference period have been excluded. Source: Own sampie survey-1996. MOBILITY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 105

TABLE 6.2. PERCE!'<'TACE DISTRIBUTION OF THE HOUSELESS POPULATION OF OLD DELHI BY INDUSTRIAL CATECORY

InduJtrial category Houseless Male Male population of population of population of OU Delhi OU Delhi the whole of 1996* 1991** urban Delhi 1991**

Agriculture, Iivestock, mining, quarrying 0.0 0.6 1.3 Manufacturing, processing, repairs 6.2 32.0 26.4 Construction 9.0 2.8 7.9 Trade, commerce, restaurants, hotels 28.4 38.3 26.4 Transport, communication 51.9 7.9 8.8 Community, social and personal services 4.5 18.3 29.2 Total 100.0 100.0 100.0

Source: * Own sample survey-1996. Sample of 243 workers classified by their main occupation (non-workers ~ 5) ** Census ofIndia 1991, Delhi, Primary Census Abstract.

male population residing in the Walled City: the sector of transport and communication employed only 8 to 9 per cent ofthe corresponding workers in 1991 (Table 6.2). Another specificity ofOid Delhi lies in the many labour markets (in the strict neo-classical sense ofthe term) which take place in different locations of the Walled City. Sorne of them are specialized in recruiting particular types of workers, such as waiters, cooks and related service workers for marriage parties and other functions which require catering services and the setting up of temporary tent structures to host large numbers ofguests. The demand for these types of workers is subject to seasonal fluctuation, with peaks corresponding to the most auspicious periods for marriage ceremonies. Such employmentopportunities draw many houseless workers, many of whom do such work as a supplementary seasonal or temporary activity. While the occupational category ofwaiters, cooks and related service workers accounts for 22 per cent of the main occupations reported by the respondents, it accounts for 56 per cent of the supplementary occupations reported (Table 6.1). On the other hand, marginal activities such as rag picking and begging which are often associated with the plight ofthe urban poor, absorb very few of the houseless surveyed in Old Delhi (2 and 1 per cent respectively in the sample). Rag picking is more specifically carried out by children and teenagers.

Services Developed JOT the Houseless .A range ofservices specifically oriented towards the needs of the houseless population have also developed in the OldCity. The governmentitself, taking cognizance ofthe plight ofthe houseless, started constructing night shelters 106 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT in the early 1960s, 6 out ofthe 18 functioning today being located within the Walled City. In the night shelters run by the municipality, for a nominal rate ofRs. 3 per night,31 each inmate is provided with a blanketand a floor carpet, and has free access to the toilets and bathrooms usually available in the same building. Sorne small private entrepreneurs, perceiving the shelterless situation of so many as a good business opportunity, rent out sleeping place and bedding facilities to pavement dwellers. Quilts are available on hire for an average rate ofRs. 5 per night, and cots with bedding for an average rate of Rs. 15 per night. Most of the entrepreneurs involved in this business also provide sleeping space ta their customers: at night they encroach on sorne sections ofthe pavements, in particular those covered byverandas, as weIl as pedestrian over-bridges and precincts, or other open grounds, on which they spread plastic ground sheets or place their cots. In the sleeping areas which are entirely exposed, overhead plastic sheets are also arranged on rainy nights to protect the sleepers. The bedding facilities are particularly in demand in the winter, when the temperature at night can go down to as low as 3° C. However, the offer of a relatively protected sleeping place, and of cots for those who can afford it, is also taken up during other seasons. Since the renting out of quilts and cots in public spaces is carried out without authorization, it inevitably leads to police interference, which atworst results in the eviction ofboth quilt owners and pavement dwellers; and, in order to minimize this risk, bribes are paid to the police by the informaientrepreneurs. However, a substantial proportion of the pavement dwellers do not rent bedding facilities; rather they have their own blankets and sleep on pavements covered by verandas or in open spaces where access is free~2-though not necessarily free from police harassment. Another type ofservice developed for pavement dwellers is the provision of hot meals from roadside food stalls directly set up on the pavements, on a temporary basis usually for just a few hours every night at dinner time. Roadside tea stalls are also a common sight in and around the pavement dwelling areas and are sometimes operated by the same entrepreneurs who rent out quilts.

THE LIFE SPACE OF HOUSELESS PEOPLE: 'THE CITYPAVEMENT AND THE VILLAGE ln this section 1 shall attempt to reconstitute the life space of pavement dwellers and to identify its structuring poles through an examination oftheir conditions of integration in the city, the relations they maintain with their native places and their future plans. At a micro level, this will allow us to assess the significance of moorings in the native village or town for the majority ofhouseless people in Old Delhi, and to highlight the relevance of the basic unit of social organization, the family. This, in turn, will help us better understand the trajectory and present living practices of pavement MOBIUTI' PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC SfRATEGIES 107 dwellers. At a macro level, it will provide important indications ofthe degree of integration between urban and rural spaces, the city pavement and the village. As a prelude, a brief oudine of the socio-demographic profile and migration history of houseless people will help us better portray the characteristics of this population.

Socio-Demographic Profile The first salient feature of the houseless population in Old Delhi is that it is almost exc1usively male, composed of single men or men living in a single state. Access to the nightshelters run by the municipality is, in fact, restricted to males. Among the main pavement dwelling areas identified in various open spaces of the Walled City, very few women and families (Iess than ten) could be seen during the headcount, and their presence was moreover confined to one or two localities. Therefore, the sampIe surveyed comprised male individuals only. The predominance of single men (unmarried or not) among pavement dwellers is especially pronounced in the Walled City as compared to sorne other parts of Delhi such as Nizamuddin where pavement dwellers are also located but where familial units are more conspicuous. At the same time, it is also a distinctive characteristic of Delhi as a whole when compared to other Indian metropolitan cities. This is c1early shown by the sex ratio of the houseless population in the first four megalopolises as recorded in the 1981 Census.33 Here we find 187 females to 1000 males in Delhi urban agglomeration, as against 453:1000 in Calcutta, 278:1000 in Bombay and 955:1000 in Madras. The average size of the shelterless households found elsewhere further confirms the specificity of the capital city: 1.9 in Delhi as a whole, as against 4.8 in Calcutta, 2.0 in Bombay and 4.1 in Madras. The quasi absence offamilial units on the pavements of the Walled City is reflected in the age composition of the shelterless population. Although the presence of street children living on their own is one of the most disquieting features of the city, in demographic terms they represent only a very minor group among all the pavement dwellers (less than 5 per cent of respondeIlts were below 15). The majority of the pavement dwellers (54 per cent of respondents) are young people belonging to the age group 15­ 29 years. More significant from the point ofview ofsocial integration is the marital status of this population. Of the respondents 78 per cent in the 15-29 age group and 43 per cent of those aged 30 and above had never married. To better appraise the specificity of the houseless population, these figures can be compared to the corresponding percentages îound in the 1991 Census for the male population of the Delhi urban agglomeration as a whole. Here we find thatwhile 62 per centofthose in the 15-29 age groupwere unmarried, only 3 per cent of those aged 30 and above remained unmarried. The remarkably high percentage of houseless persons who remained unmarried 108 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT at a relatively advanced age indicates a certain degree of social marginality among the houseless, and is a manifestation ofthe individualization process, whether chosen or endured. The circumstances of people's migration to Delhi and their life stories more generally will provide sorne explanation of this situation. The percentage ofhouseless people in Old Delhi belonging to Scheduled Castes and Tribes is a good indicator of whether or not members of this population hail from the most underprivileged sections of society. In the sample population, 13 per cent of respondents reported belonging to a scheduled caste or tribe. Given the sampling errors, this represents a proportion very close to that recorded in the total male population of the Walled City at the 1991 Census, namely 11 per cent. Interestingly, it is also almost similar to the proportion of Scheduled Castes and Tribes recorded in the 1971 Census among the houseless population in the territory of the Delhi Municipal Corporation, namely, 12 per cent for males. On the other hand, the proportion ofScheduled Castes and Tribes among the pavement dwellers of Old Delhi is significantly lower than their share in the male population of the entire Delhi urban agglomeration, that is 19 per cent at the 1991 Census. Though no comparison can be drawn with census data, it is not.eworthy that the majority of the houseless surveyed in Old Delhi (56 per cent) belong to upper castes or communities, the remaining share corresponding to Other Backward Classes (31 per cent). The proportion ofilliterates is an alternative indicator ofsocio-economic backwardness. In this respect the houseless population in the Walled City appears clearly disadvantaged, containing 38 per cent ofilliterates, whereas, according ta the 1991 Census, the proportion ofilliterates in the total male population of the Walled City was 24 per cent, and in the total male population ofurban Delhi only 18 per cent. 34

Migration History Migration is a common experience shared by almost ail houseless people in Old Delhi (96 per cent of the respondents are from outside Delhi) and the large majority of migrants (61 per cent of the sample) have come directly from their native place to the capital. Most of them (69 per cent) hail from rural areas with the largest single group coming from Uttar Pradesh (47 per cent), followed by Bihar. The large proportion of people from the neighbouring state of Uttar Pradesh conforms to the general pattern of migration to the capital city; what seems more remarkable is that the catchment area of the Old Delhi pavements extends farther to eastern and southern states such as West Bengal, Orissa, Andhra Pradesh and Tamil Nadu. These findings are consistent with the survey of pavement dwellers in Old Delhi conducted by the Delhi DevelopmentAuthority in 1989, according to which 98 per cent of the respondentS were migrants, most of them coming from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar. For comparative purposes, it can be recalled here that, at the 1991 Census, migrants accounted for 40 per cent of the MOBILITY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 109 total male urban population ofDelhi, with 45 per centofthem comingfrom Uttar Pradesh. Analysis ofthe reasons which motivated departure from the native place (or home) and migration to Delhi (or arrivaI on the pavements) reveals contrasting situations. One striking feature is the impact offamilial tensions and quarrels: children beaten up by a drunken father or ill-treated by a stepmother, cases of disputes over family property after the death of the father, quarrels with a spouse, brother, parent or other relative, etc., are frequently quoted in the migration histories ofrespondents. 35 For those who migrated to Delhi under circumstances offamilial crisis, the main concern was to escape an unbearable situation, and itis small wonder that their arrivaI in Delhi was often ill-prepared, and that their choice of destination was uncertain or even left to chance while catching the first departing train. In case where flight from home was followed by the severing of aIl familial links, it cornes as no surprise that the youngunmarried migrant will generally remain unmarried, since he is no longer in a position to benefit any more from the support of his family who under normal circumstances would arrange the marriage. In greater conformity to the general pattern ofmigration expected for a large metropolis, the majority ofrespondents (66 per cent ofthe migrants) chose to come to Delhi for reasons re1ated to better employment oppor­ tunities and economic prospects. This inc1udes the many migrants from rural areas or small towns, whose incomes in the native place were not sufficient to sustain their families, as weIl as young people anxious to earn an income on their own outside familial agriculture. The decision to come to Delhi was sometimes made withoutspecific information about the labour market there, and was based more on the general assumption that Delhi, being a big city, must provide opportunities. This attitude is exemplified in the sayings that in Delhi 'everybody can accommodate himself' or 'everybody can find ajob if hardworking'. Sorne pavement dwellers, especially sorne children and young people, were initially attracted by the capital city as a place to visit but eventually stayed over, because they too found greater economic scope in Delhi.

Conditions ofIntegration in the City In addition to the economic attraction exerted by the capital city, a migrant's choice to come to Delhi is often influenced by the presence of relatives, parents or co-villagers already working in the capital and conveying information aboutjob opportunities. The importance ofrelatives and friends in transmitting information to prospective migrants has been highlighted in migration studies,36 and the houseless migrants of Old Delhi, like other labour migrants, make use offamilial and social networks whenever possible. Help related to finding a job or starting work as self-employed was most prominentin migrants' accounts, followed by help related to accommodation or a place to sleepY In the majority of cases, it was the migrant who 110 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT approached the network ofrelatives or co-villagers, showing that the houseless condition does not necessarily mean that pavement dwellers operate in a familial and social vacuum. However, the economic and housing conditions ofthe relatives already settled in Delhi may putlimits to the type and duration of help extended to new migrants, especially as far as accommodation is concerned. In a few examples, after an initial stay with his parents or relatives in a sium hut or one-room tenement, the migrant was compelled to leave due to lack of space and to stay in a night shelter or a pavement dwelling area. The persons working in the occupation or sector of activity in which the migrant eventually becomes absorbed also play an appreciable role in introducing him t~ new work, including sometimes training; and showing him cheap (or free) and convenient places to sleep. In fact, the work place and the community ofworkers in the same type of occupation come to provide the main network of socialization for the houseless people during their stay in Delhi. In the wholesale market ofKhari Baoli especially, many handcart pullers can be seen staying together in groups at night, sleeping on their carts or under the verandas of the market, and cooking food collectively on pavements. Another important network of socialization among houseless people in an urban setting is based on village or regional affiliation. The survey revealed several interesting examples of migration channels rooted in familial or village tradition. This was the case with sorne of the pavement dwellers working as cycle rickshaw drivers, handcart pullers or construction labourers in Delhi. Working on a seasonal basis during the lean agricultural months, sorne were perpetuating a practice initiated by their fathers, or by other villagers. They followed a migration channel alreadywell established, going to the same labour markets, the same rickshaw garages, and sleeping on the same pavements. Such groups of villagers can be found in the wholesale spice and grain market of Khari Baoli or under the verandas ofAsafAli Road. In the latter place, for example, there was one group ofsorne 25-30 persons who came from the same village in Uttar Pradesh, lived together on the pavement despite belonging to different castes, and sometimes even cooked together. Moreover, they returned together to their village for the main festivals, and each month one member of the group went back to the village taking the remittances from ail the other villagers working in Delhi in order to redistribute them to their respective families. Thus, a community life had been reconstituted among the pavement dwellers, based on belonging to the same place of origin, and this link transcended caste differences, at least during the temporary stay in Delhi, where earning money was the predominant preoccupation.

Relations Maintained with the Place ofOrigin As revealed by the in-depth interviews, most ofthe houseless people surveyed still have family members staying in their native place and the majority of them visit their native place and family more or less regularly (at least once in the last two years according to the survey) or intend to do so in the case of MOBILITY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES III very recent migrants who have been in Delhi for less than one year. 38 A notable proportion of the houseless migrants also maintain contacts with their families through letters. Another revealing indication is the practice of remittances or support in kind provided to the family: about half of the respondents who still have family members in their native place provide financial support, often supplemented by gifts ofclothes or household items at the time ofvisits. Reciprocal exchanges in favour of the migrant in Delhi are rare, which is only to be expected given the fact that it is precisely the unsatisfactory nature of economic conditions in the native place which pushed many migrants to leave in the first place. However, contrary to what might be expected, the houseless migrants in Delhi do not necessarily hail from the poorest rural families, and apart from having familial houses in their native places, many ofthem come from families with agricultural land, though the size of properties is generally small. For those migrants who have not broken away from their families, familial assets in the place of origin represent a form of security, since they involve rights on land and a share of the family property. Conversely, the protection of their rights over familial properties provides an incentive for migrants to maintain relationships with their native places and send remittances to their families. As observed frequently in the process ofrural­ urban migration in developing countries, access to agriculturalland can be used as a lever by the village community to control migrants from afar and to benefit from the economic returns of their work in the city.39 Attachment to the family is further revealed by future plans to return to the native place (in the near or distant future), a wish that was shared by the majority of houseless migrants interviewed. Those who wished to return to their native places, often made plans for future investments. In particular, many planned to open up a general store or sorne other type ofshop in the village, to buy more agricultural land or to invest more generally in agriculture. To realize these projects, the individuals interviewed planned to raise funds from their own savings, supplemented, ifnecessary, by a familial contribution. Sorne of these investment projects may not be realized, yet sorne seem viable given the saving capacity of the workers concerned. This shows a definite degree of economic dynamism among certain houseless persons, and conveys an image not of abject poverty, but of economic calculation involving temporary sacrifice in terms of housing conditions in the city as a short-term measure geared towards improving economic conditions in the native place. The above investigation makes it possible to draw up a typology of the houseless migrants living in ûld Delhi as regards their degree ofattachment to their family and native place. Concerning the significance offarpilial units for houseless individuals living alone in ûld Delhi, two distinct-and opposite-patterns can be identified, with a whole range of intermediary possibilities. Corresponding to the highest degree of familial integration, one can find seasonal migrants coming to Delhi everyyear to work for a few months, usually during the lean season for agriculture, and directiy supporting their families in the native place. Close to this group in terms of 112 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT their integration are married migrants whose wives and children (if any) remained with the extended families in their native place and ta whom remittances are periodically sent. There are also unmarried migrants contributing ta the familial incarne. Bath such groups visit their families regularly. These remitter-migrants exemplify familial solidarity which transcends residential unity: this is a common feature of the migration process, especially rural-urban migration, bath in India and in other developing countries.40 What needs ta be underlined here is that the houseless condition of the migrant in the city does not prevent him from exercising this solidarity; in fact, as 1 shaH show in the next section, it is this very condition which allows him ta support his family financially. At the lowest end ofthe scale offamilial attachment are those individuals who ran away from home following an acute familial crisis often involving violence (quarrel, dispute, etc.), and who eventually severed ail links with their families and home'. Whilst most of the children interviewed belonged ta this category, there were also sorne young adults who had felt compel1ed ta take this radical step, and even sorne aider men who experienced familial crisis ata relatively advanced age. Given the circumstances oftheir departure from home, these migrants or escapees cannat rely on familial networks for their integration within the city. Among this section of houseless people, which nevertheless remains a minority, a process of individualization and anomie, more forced than chosen, may be at work as a consequence of the breaking awayfrom the basic social institution ofthe family. Such traumatic experiences at the origin of the shelterless situation of those men should not be confused with the few examples of pavement dwel1ers who made a deliberate decision ta withdraw from family life and material attachments in order to live a life of renunciation-or close to it. ln sum, living alone and without shelter does not necessarily imply social marginality. The majority of the houseless surveyed in Old Delhi maintain relationships and various links with their families in their native places which remain their basic contexts ofreference. As a matter offact, the importance ofthe native village as a structuring pole ofthe migrants'Iife space might be more marked for houseless migrants (barring those who have severed ail links with theirfamilies) than for those migrants whose residenrial integration is less precarious: thus, this local reference which also contains a mythical dimension probably helps the pavement dwellers ta better accept their present living conditions in Delhi and tojustify the hardship and degrading aspects oftheir situation. 'City dwel1ers by compulsion, yet villagers by heart' is a phrase which summarizes the dual identity of the majority of houseless migrants.

ECONOMIC A,,1\1D RESIDENTIAL STRATEGIES ln this section, 1 shall further investigate the economic and residential strategies ofthe houseless people surveyed in Old Delhi, examining economic conditions, choice ofsleeping places, and willingness ta move and ta pay for MOBILIlY PATfERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 113 a dwelling. 1shall attempt to appraise the elements ofchoice and constraint, by asking the following question: to what extent is the shelterless situation the consequence ofexclusion from access ta the urban housing system and to what extent does it also correspond ta a residential strategy aimed at improving individual or familial economic conditions? And is shelterlessness merelya transitory stage preceding a person's better integration into the urban housing system or does it correspond to a permanentway oflife or at least a prolonged one lasting the duration of a person's stay in Delhi?

Economie Conditions

One striking feature ofthe economic condition ofthis segment ofpopulation is the great variety of situations encountered. The different types of occupation performed by houseless people have been already described (see Tables 6.1 and 6.2), in relation to the economic characteristics ofOld Delhi. The proportion ofrespondents who did not report any income generating activity in Delhi remained marginal (2 per cent ofthe sample).41 These were essentially very recent in-migrants who had been in Delhi for less than one month and were stilllooking forjobs. From this pointofview, the shelterless population of Old Delhi proves to be an integral part of the metropolitan labour force. This accords with the findings ofprevious studies on pavement dwellers and night shelter inmates in Delhi. 42 ln terms ofmoney earned, the houseless workers appear to form a very heterogeneous section of the labour force: the average monthly earnings (for the twelve months preceding the 1996 survey) ranged from Rs. 300 (in the case ofa child helper in a tea stail) to Rs. 4,500 (in the case ofa pave­ ment dweller involved in sorne illegal trade combined with other legal occupations),43 with 60 per cent ofrespondents earning between Rs. 1,000 and Rs. 2,000 per month (for their main occupations only). Furthermore, intra-occupational income differentials are very large. The incomes generated by the houseless workers place them in the low­ income group, yet, with the exception of one case, ail the respondents of the sample would be above the poverty line ofRs. 310 per capita per month, considered to be the expenditure required for a daily calorie intake of 2100 per person in urban areas at 1995-6 prices.44 This would appear to apply even after taking into consideration the remittances sent to the family outside Delhi. In proportion ta their incarne levels, the saving capacity ofthe majority of the houseless is also far from being marginal. Remittances to the family and future plans for investment following their return to their native place are otherencouraging indicators ofthe economic potential ofa good number of them. In this respect, the findings of this survey corroborate the conclusions of other studies on the urban poor, such as Kundu's assertion that 'the thesis regarding economic marginality of the people in urban informaI sectors, sium dwellers, pavement dwellers and others is an exaggeration'.45 114 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

Yet, the insecu:'ity ofemploymentand the uncertainty ofgettingsufficient work constitute widespread concerns. Coing daily or periodically to the labour market to get recruited by a contractor or to the wholesale markets and bazaars to find assignments, is the common fate ofconstruction workers, service workers in the catering industry, loaders and unloaders, handcart pushers (who help the main pullers and are recruited by them), and other casuallabourers. Among the houseless working as employees, only a very small minority have secured salariedjobs, As for self-employed workers such as handcart pullers and cycle rickshaw drivers, they have to hire their cart or rickshaw everyday without any guarantee of the number of trips-ofgoods or passengers-they will be able to obtain. The situation for street vendors, roadside mechanics, and others self-employed in the informaI sector is similar in terms ofgeneral precariousness and corresponding irregularityofincome. As a response to this risk of unemployment and irregularity of work, houseless workers have developed the strategy of combining several occupations and being flexible about changing work. Thus, almost one-third ofrespondents reported having had more than one occupation in Delhi in the last year (most reported two). These occupations are often alternated according to the changing opportunities of the labour market, in particular according to seasonal patterns; sometimes different activities are also carried on simultaneously throughout the year (see also Table 6.1). AB of this means that, although most of the houseless surveyed in Old Delhi had not experienced unemployment during the preceding year (among those who had few reported significant unemployment periods), the insecurity ofemployment and the consequent lack ofguaranteed regular income are some of the most significant features of the economic condition of these workers and a critical factor for understanding their shelterless condition.

Financial Cons/minis Civen the economic condition of the pavementdwellers, financial constraints undollbtedly constitute a major obstacle in obtaining housing. However, the significance of this factor has to be appraised in relation to other factors and to be considered in a long-term perspective. Financial constraints are likely to be most stringent at the initial stages of pavement dwelling when the migrantfirst arrives in Delhi and is yet to be absorbed into the labour market. Later, the key constraint is not so mllch the average level of income as the lack ofgllarantee ofa reglliar income. This element ofuncertainty restrains many shelterless casllal workers from contemplating accommodation on rent even if they have the financial potential to pay for it, for they do not wish to entail rcgular and fixed expenscs which cannot be adjllsted in relation to actllal earnings. On the other hand, expenses for hiring a quilt or a cot outside or for entrance to a night shelter are incllrred on a daily basis and are therefore easily adjllstable to daily earnings. Further elements for lInderstanding the residential strategies of pavement dwellers are revealed in their freqllent practice of changing MOBIUTY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 115 sleeping locations during the year. In particular, seasonal patterns can be observed, with various possible combinations. For example, in the summer, preference is given to sleeping on open grounds, non-covered pavements, road dividers, or in parks; during the rainy season, verandas, night shelters, cots or mattresses on hire in sleeping areas protected with ground and overhead plastic sheeting, are more in demand; and in winter preference is given to quilts on hire, nightshelters and verandas. Sorne pavement dwellers have been repeating the same seasonal patterns with the same combination of locations for years. This flexibility in sleeping places also helps us understand how pavement dwellers who can afford to spend Rs. 3 per night for access to a night shelter, or Rs. 5 for hiring a quilt, or up to Rs. 15 for a cot and bedding, are not necessarily ready to spend the equivalent monthly amount to rent a room. Whereas taking a room on rent entails regular and fixed expcnses throughout the year, resorting to a night shelter or bedding on hire involves daily expenses which can be reduced to zero during certain periods of the year when climatic conditions are favourable. Even for those houseless persons with a sufficient and regular saving capacity to rent a room (alone or by sharing itwith one or two otherworkers) priority may be given to remittances to the family or to long-term savings for· future investment in the native place. In other words, preference may be given to the family's living conditions in the native place over the migrant's living conditions in Delhi, and to the future over the present. In such cases, it cannot be said that there are absolute financial constraints preventing the houseless migrant from renting a room, but rather relative ones resulting from his own choice and priorities.

Proximity to the Workplace Another major factor for understanding the shelterless situation of many workers in Old Delhi and their choice of sleeping place is the location of their workplace. Closer proximity to the place of work or source of employmentopportunities is one ofthe reasons respondents gave for staying initiallyon the pavement or in a night shelter, and more frequenùy to explain their choice ofa specific place to sleep. The actual 'residential' location of the houseless is more revealing than their explicit answers. Most of the rcspondents interviewed in Old Delhi work in the Walled City itself, or in the adjoining areas, within walking distance from their place ofsleep. Ifwe consider the statistics pertaining to the people's main occupations, 80 per cent ofthe houseless workers surveyed walk to their place ofwork, the average time of commuting being only 16 minutes each way, with 57 per cent of them taking 10 minutes or less. The cost of transportation to work is consequenùy reduced to nil. Even amongst those respondents who claimed to give priority to the quality of their sleeping environment, in terms of choosing areas which contained acquaintances and good facilities, most still remained within walking distance from their place ofwork or from the labour market. 116 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

The relative importance given to staying close to the source of employ­ ment opportunities depended to sorne extent on types of occupation. For casual workers who have to go daily to a labour market to get recruited, such as workers in the catering services and construction labourers, this proximity factor appears primordial. In order to get more job offers, and to be in a betler position ta bargain with contractors, it is necessary to reach the labour market early in the morning, and hence not have to waste time commuting. For handcart pullers or pushers and loaders working in market areas, transportation activities do not startvery early in the morning (usuallyaround 10 a.m.) but they often continue late into the night, which makes it more convenient ta sleep in the market itself, and more profitable for getting assignments. Since the nature ofthe work requires intense physical strength, the transportation workers are usually exhausted after a day's work; sleeping in the same location (or nearby) enables them to avoid the additional tiredness ofcommuting. Furthermore, in the market they are able to sleep on their handcarts or under the verandas of the buildings, and usually do not face harassment by the police since theyare known to work there. The position of the cycle rickshaw drivers (whose work is also physically demanding) is mixed. Those who keep their rickshaws at night can sleep on them and have more flexibility in their choice of location, providing they can park their rickshaws safely. But for the drivers having to hire their rickshaws every morning from their owners' garages, staying within close proximity to the garage is important. Even for those houseless workerswhose occupations and modes of recruitment do not require them to stay near sources ofemployment opportunities, proximity between sleeping place and workplace is highly sought after in order to reduce-or eliminate entirely-­ the cost ofcommuting. The residential mobility ofhouseless people in Delhi further highlights the significance of the strategies aimed at staying doser to the workplace. In addition to seasonal patterns of mobility governed by dimatic conditions, we find people changing their 'residential' location in relation ta occu­ pational mobility. 46 The houseless people adjust their choice ofsleeping place according to employment opportunities, to the location ofa particular labour market, or to the possibilities of sleeping at the workplace itself. The vital importance of proximity to the workplace was highlightedin another urban context by a famous Supreme Court ruling concerning the eviction of pavement dwellers in Mumbai.47 The judgement delivered acknowledged that the pavement dwellers needed to live near their place of work, 'the time otherwise taken in commuting and its cost being forbid­ ding for their siender means. To lose the pavement or the sium is to lose the job' .48 Thus, for this population, squatting on the pavement proved to be a prerequisite to earning a livelihood.49 It is worth referring here to a report from the 1950s by the Bharat Sevak Samaj concerning the then sIums of Old Delhi about which it was written: 'On the whole it is amply substantiated that nearness to the workplace is one of the most importantfactors forcing them to live where they are living MOBILITY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 117 today, in the slums.'50 This conclusion continues to have relevance for the pavement dwellers who today inhabit the same part of the city.

Perennial versus Transitory Shelterlessness in Delhi An investigation ofthe length oftime people remain shelterless and oftheir future plans and willingness to pay for a dwelling throws sorne light on another important issue: the perennial versus transitory nature of the shelterless situation in Delhi. A notable proportion ofhouseless people have been living in this condition for ten or more than ten years (17 per cent of the sampie) though this does not exclude regular visits to their native place. For this category of pavement dwellers, and especially for those staying in the same nightshelter or sleeping place for several years, or repeating exactly the same seasonal movements sometimes for the past ten or even fifteen years, their houseless condition seems to have become a permanent way of life, or at least permanent enough to last the duration oftheir working lives before they retire to their native place. Although many people express a desire to move to better accom­ modation, this is unlikely to be realized in many cases owing to constraints similar to those already underlined in the case of houselessness. The minorityofhouseless peoplewho had attempted to move to proper dwellings gave the following reasons for their return to pavements and night shelters: difficulties adjusting to other personswith whom the)'shared the same room (a common way ofreducing housing expenses) or the realization that their work and income were suffering owing to the distance from their place of work. Hence, the desire and even actual attempts to move off the streets cannot be taken as indicators that the shelterless situation is merely a transitory phase leading eventually ta better integration into the urban housing system. The arguments of those houseless persons who stated that they had no intention of moving to better accommodation, are also worth considering. Interestingly, those reporting their unwillingness to pay for a dwelling were not necessarily those with the least earning and saving capacity. They gave two reasons for their position. Sorne claimed they did not intend to stay in Delhi for a long period, and therefore found it irrelevant to take a room on rent. Others made it clear that their priority was to maximize savings, especially in order to send remittances ta their families. Consequently, they tried to minimize expenses for housing and transportation in Delhi, sometimes even reducing them to zero. Being alone in the citywithout their families, sorne houseless migrants did not perceive proper accommodation as a need. As a matter offact, most ofthe houseless interviewed did not plan to settle in Delhi permanently, but hoped eventually to return to their native place or to migrate to another city. Hence, they perceived their stay in Delhi as limited in time, even if this transitory situation may eventually last the entire duration of their working lives.51 118 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

Coming back to questions raised at the beginning of this section regarding the interpretation of the shelterless situation, we can sum up the main arguments which have emerged from the surveys of houseless people in Old Delhi. Employment conditions and financial constraints undoubtedly prevent or limit the possibilities of access to a dwelling. Nevertheless, this factor has to be considered in combination with other explanatory factors, forming a system in which choice is often present. The residential practices ofthe majority ofthe houseless reveal an economic rationale oriented towards maximizing savings and remittances to their families in their native place, by minimizing their housing and transportation expenses. Such economic behaviour also conforms to the explanatory framework propounded by the 'New Economics ofMigration', in which 'migration decisions are not made by isolated individual actors, but by larger units ofrelated people-typically families or households-in which people act collectively not only to maximize expected income, but also to minimize risks ... to their economic well­ being by diversifYing the allocation of household resources, such as family labor', in particular by sending family members to work in urban labour markets.52 When the logic ofstaying shelteiless in Delhi is an integral part of familial strategies rooted in the native place, priority being given to the economic condition ofthe family in the village at the expense ofthe migrants' living conditions in Delhi, then, the shelterless situation is likely to last for the duration of their stay in the capital. The role ofrational choice in the residential practices ofhouseless people has been highlighted in other studies-although the exercise ofchoice for this segment of the urban poor is obviously restricted by strong economic and social constraints.5~ The importance of proximity to the source of livelihood is also emphasized. This factor is crucial not only for understanding the residential practices and location choices of the houseless, but more generally ofthe urban poor.54 The failure ofmany attempts to relocate sium dwellers and squatters in settlement colonies outside city centres is often due to inadequate consideration of the importance of easy physical access to earning opportunities.

CONCLUSION In the use of urban space, Old Delhi is particularly subject to competing interests and strategies from different actors, both institutional (the planning authorities) and private (traders, entrepreneurs, pavementdwellers). Despite the attempts of town planners to regulate this process, the proliferation of commercial and industrial establishments in the old city core during the last decades accelerated the deterioration ofold buildings, and has attracted a floating population of migrant workers whose residential integration is extremely precarious. This has further engendered the development of 'unauthorized' economic and residential practices: the nightly occupation of pavements and other public spaces by houseless migrants and by private entrepreneurs renting out bedding facilities. Yet, these small informai MOBILITY PATTERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 119 enterprises, though without license, help compensate for inadequate civic services, namely the insufficient capacity of the night shelters run by the municipality. Statistical and anthropological surveys conducted on a sampIe of shelterless persons in the old city permitted us to examine their mobility patterns and their economic and residential strategies. Onlya minority have broken away from their families. Although they live alone in Delhi, the majority of the houseless migrants maintain regular links with their families in their native place, which remains their primary place of reference. Through their circular mobility, the houseless labour migrants contribute towards integrating rural family enterprises such as agriculture with the urban labour market, village with city, in such a way that they form part of a single economic system. The houseless population of Old Delhi also forms an integral part of the metropolitan labour force, which in terms ofincome seems to be able to stay above the poverty line. Yet, the lack of guaranteed and regular income constitutes a general concern. At the same time, their saving capacity, remittances and plans for future investment, aIl represent encouraging indicators of the economic potential of a notable portion of the house­ less. Finally, the large variety of individual situations encountered indicates that the houseless are not a single category of 'urban poor', nor are they necessarily 'the poorest of the urban poor'. Although financial constraints provide the background to the shelterless situation, the residential practices of pavement dwellers and night shelter inmates should not be interpreted purely in terms of exclusion from access to a dwelling. Rather, it is important to recognize the economic rationales of individual migrants who try to maximize remittances to their families by cuttingor eliminating housing and transport expenses. It is within this context that they give priority to sleeping locations near the workplace or labour market. It therefore stands to reason that the condition of the pavement dwellers has to be viewed in relation to their needs and priorities. This is a prerequisite for planning appropriate urban housing policies. To conclude this analysis, a comprehensive explanatory framework for the mobility and residential patterns ofhouseless migrants can be formulated at three different levels. At the macro level, rural-urban labour migration, including that ofthe houseless workers surveyed in Old Delhi reflects and is induced by the unequal economic development between rural areas and the capital city. Furthermore, the economic characteristics of Old Delhi contribute to the specific pull exerted on a floating population of unskilled labourers. At the family level (which proved relevant in the majority ofcases), the economic and residential strategies of houseless migrants is led by the principle of risk aversion, through the diversification of the allocation of family labour. This would appear to be the guiding logic of migration in developing countries more generally. Finally, at the individual leve1, the economic and residential practices of the houseless are geared towards maximizing savings by minimizing housing and commuting costs, as weil as 120 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT ensuring better economic returns by staying near to the main locations for employment opportunities. This type of strategy is common amongst the urban poor-in the case of the pavement dwellers it is pushed to its logical extreme.

NOTES

The research for this paper is part of a study on patterns of population mobility in the metropolitan area of Delhi. This is a collaborative project between the French Institute of Research for Development (ex-ORSTOM) which financed the study, and the two Delhi-based institutions: the C.enlre dA! Sciences Humainesand the Institute ofEconomic Growth which provided institutional, logistical and intellectual support. 1 am most grateful to these institutions for their assistance and co-operation. This project has also received financial support from the CNRS (Aclion Concerlée en Sciences Sociales ORSTOM-CNRS) as part of a collective research programme on the city ofDclhi. and from the l'IR-Villes, for comparative analysis ofresidential practices in Delhi and Bogota), as weil as from the CSH as part of the research theme on 'Urban dynamics'. Sincere thanks are also due to the team of field investigators and research assistants who helpcd colleet, code and edit the data. Those who deserve particular mention are: Dhananjay Tingal with whom 1 condllcted the in-depth interviews, Mohammed Baber Ali, Sandeep Chauhan, Bhuwan Kumar,Jay Prakash and Ravi Shekar. This contribution draws on an earlier paper prepared with Dhananjay Tingal for the 14th European Conference ofModern South Asian Studies in Copenhagen (21-4 August 1996), and later revised: V. Dupont and D. Tingal, 'Residential and Economie Practices ofPavementDwellers in Old Delhi', Delhi: Institute of Economie Growth,Working Paper Series, 1997, no. E/186/97.

I. R.K. Arora and A.K. Chhibber, 'Chilled nights on pavements in Delhi. A Socio-Economic Stlldy ofthe Children Staying in Ran Baseras in Winter', New Delhi: Socio-economic division, Sium andJhuggi:Jhonpri Department, Delhi DevelopmentAuthority, mimeo, 1985, p. I. 2. NIUA, Dimmsion of Urban Poverly. A Silualional Analysis, New Delhi: National Institute of Urban Affairs, Research Stlldy Series no. 25, 1986, p. 90. 3. D.B. Gupta, S. Kaul and R. Pandey, Housing and India 5 Urban Pour, New Delhi: Har Anand Publications, 1993, p. 29. 4. V. Dupont, F. Dureau, 'Rôle des mobilités circulaires dans les dynamiques urbaines. Illustrations à partir de l'Equateur et de l'Inde', Paris: Revue Tiers Monde, Tome XXXV, no. 140, OcL-Dec. 1994, pp. 801-29. 5. For Delhi, see A. Basu, K. Basu and R. Ray, 'Migrants and the native bond. An analysis of micro-level data from Delhi', Economic and'Polilical Weekly, vol. XXII, No. 19-20-21, Annual Number, May 1987, pp. AN-145-54; and B. Banerjee, Rurallo Urban Migralion and lhe Urban Labour Markel (A case sludy ofDelhi), Delhi: Himalaya Publishing House, 1986, Chap. V. 6. A. Tarrills, 'Territoires circulatoires et espaces urbains', lVIobililés, Les Annales de la Recherche urbaine, no. 59-60,June-September 1993, Paris: Plan Urbain, METI, pp. 51-60 (p. 51, our lranslalion) . 7. N.V. Jagannathan and A. Halder, 'Income-housing Linkages. A Case Study of Pavement Dwellers in Calcutta', Economic and PoÎilical Week(v, vol. XXIII, no. 23, 1988, 4Jllne 1998, pp. 1175-8. 8. For exceptions, see S. Manzoor Alam and F. Alikhan (eds.), Poverly in Melropolilan Cilies, New Delhi: Concept Publishing Company, 1987; A.M. Singh, A. de Souza, The Urban Poor, Sium and Pavemenl Dwellers in Major Cilies ofIndia, Delhi: Manohar, 1980; A. de Souza, (ed.), The Indian Cily: Poverly, Ecology and Urban DevelopmeTll, Delhi: Manohar, 1983. 9. To mention sorne of the more recent studies: H. Nagpaul, Modernisalion and Urbanisalion in India: l'roblerns and Issues, Jaipur and New Delhi: Rawat Publications, 1996; D.B. Gupta, S. Kaul and R. Pandey, Housing and Urban Poor, New Delhi: Har Anand Publications, MOBILITI PATTERN!> AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 121

1993; A.K.Jain, The Indian Megacity aruiEeonomie&farm, New Delhi: Management Publishing Co., 1996; A. Kundu, In the Name ofthe Urban Poor. Aecess to Basie Amenities, New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1993; NIUA, Dimension of Urban Poverty. A Situational Analysis, New Delhi: National Institute ofUrban Affairs, Research Study Series no. 25, 1986; NIUA, Profile ofthe Urban Poor: An Investigation into their Demographie, Economie and Shelter Charaeteristics, New Delhi: National Institute ofUrban Affairs, Research Study Series no. 40. 1989; E.M. rernia (ed.). Urban Poverty in Asia. A Survey ofCritical Issues, Hong Kong: OUP, 1994; P. Suri, Urban Poor. Their Housing Needs and Government &sponse, Delhi: Har Anand Publications, 1994. 10. One can however mention:

- for Calcutta: P. Dhar, 'Pavement Dwellers in Calcutta. Strategies for rehabilitation and Urban Development', unpublished thesis, Delhi: School of Planning and Architecture, 1985; N.V.Jagannathan and A. Halder, 'A Case Study ofPavement Dwellers in Calcutta', EeonomieandPolitieal Weekly, vol. XXIII, no. 23, 4June 1988, pp. 1175-8; no. 49, 3 December 1988, pp. 2602-5 and vol. XXIV, no. 6, Il February 1989, pp. 315-18; ISI, 'Calcutta 1976: A Socio-economic Survey ofPavement Dwellers', Calcutta: Indian Statistical Institute, 1977; S. Mukherjee, 'Under the Shadow of the Metropolis-They are Citizens too', Calcutta: Calcutta Metropolitan Development Authority & Calcutta Metropolitan Planning Organization, 1975. - for Mumbai: P. Ramachandran, 'Pavement Dwellers in Bombay City', Bombay: Tata Institute ofSocial Sciences, Series no. 26, 1972; SPARC; 'We the Invisible: &port on Pavement DlJJellers in Bombay, Bombay: SPARC, 1985. - for Delhi: R.K. Arora and A.K. Chhibber, 'Chilled Nights on Pavements in Delhi. A Socio-economic Study.ofthe Children Staying in Ran Baseras in Winter',New Delhi: Socio­ economic division, Sium andJhuggi:Jhonpri Department, Delhi Development Authority, mimeo, 1985; Bharat Sevak Samaj, 'A RoofOver the Head', Delhi: Delhi Schcol ofSocial Work, 1964; DDA, 'Survey of Pavement Dwellers in Old Delhi', unpublished study, New Delhi: Sium and Jhuggi:Jhonpri Department, Delhi Development Authority, 1989; J. Kuruvilla, 'PavementDwellingin Metropolitan Cities. Case Study Delhi', thesis, New Delhi: School of Planning and Architecture, Department of Housing, 1990-1. This list is not exhaustive. 11. The main reference dates back to 1971: this is the special studyon the houseless population carried out by the 1971 Census operations (S.R. Gangotra, Houseless in Delhi, Census of India 1971, Series 27, Delhi, Part X (a), Special Study, Delhi: Government ofIndia, 1976). The other references are unpublished studies, poorly circulated: report of the Bharat Sevak Samaj (op. cit.) , a non-governmental organization dedicated to the cause of the poor; a special study conducted by the SIum Wing of the Delhi Development Authority (DDA) on the children staying in night shelters in winter (Arora and Chhibber, op. cit.); a sampIe survey of about 1069 pavement dwellers in Old Delhi, conducted in 1989 by the Sium Wing of the DDA (op. ciL), and whose report was unfortunately untraceable even in the concerned administration; a thesis completed at the School of Planning and Architecture based on a sampie survey of 71 pavement dwellers and 30 inmates of government night shelters in different localiiies of Delhi (Kuruvilla, op. cit.). 12. A figure quoted in an unpublished report ofthe Sium andJhuggi:Jhonpri Department of the DDA ('Programme of Night Shelters for the Homeless in Delhi', Sium and Jhuggi­ Jhonpri Department, New Delhi: Delhi Development Authority, 1994), although the corresponding census table has not yet been published. 13. Census enumerators are instructed 'to take note of the possible places where houseless population is likely.to live' in their enumeration block(s). This recognizance has to be done during the enumeration ofail the households and persans living in 'census houses' (including ail types of dwellings), and while this main census operation usually lasts 20 days (between 9 February and 28 February in 1991), the enumerators have only one night to survey the houseless population. Thus, for the 1991 Cen~us, they were told 'On the night of February 28/March l, 1991, but before sunrise of March 1, 1991, you will 122 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

have to quickly COYer ail such houseless households and enumerate them.' (Census of India 1991, Instructions to EnumeratoH Jor Filling up the Household Sehedule and Individual Sli!), New Delhi: Olfice ofthe RegistraI' General & Census Commissioner for India, Ministry of Home Affairs, 1991, p. 64.) 14. Jagannathan and Halder, 1988, op. cil., p. II 75. 15. Ramachandran, op. cit.; Kuruvilla, op. cit.; SPARC, op. cit. 16. Arora and Chhibber, op. cit.; Kuruvilla. op. cit. 17. Census of India, op. cit., p. 64. 18. See,j.M. Firdion, M. Marpsal, 'La statistique dessans-domicile aux Etats-Unis', Paris: Courrier des Statistiques, nos. 71-2, December 1994, pp. 43-51; andj.M. Firdion, M. Marpsat, and M. Bozon, 'Est-illégitime de mener des enquêtes statistiques auprès des sans-domicile? Une question éthique et scientifique', Paris: Revue Française des Affaires Sociales, 49ème année, 1995, nos. 2-3, pp. 29-51. As these authors show, in the United States, where numerous pioneering statistical studies of homelessness have been conducted, estimates of lhe homeless population varied from 3,00,000 to 30,00,000 in 1982-3. 19. C. Bienveniste, 'Toward (/ Belter Understanding ofthe HomeLe.u and Exclusion Jmm Housin{;', Paris, Actualités du Conseil National de l'Information Statistique, no. 17, May 1996, p. I. 20. Hence, when referring to the survey and unless othel'wise stated, lhe term 'pavement dwellers' will be used to designate the houseless population sleeping either in various open spaces or in night shelters. In fact, as shown later in this essay, there is a significant lcvcl ofcirculation amongst houseless people who move belween various open spaces and night shelters. 21. j.D. Wright and B. Robin, 'Les sans-domicile aux Etats Unis', Paris: Sociétés Contemporaines, no. 30, 1998, pp. 35-66. 22. For a detailed presentation of the methodology used, see V. Dupont, 'City History-Life Histories: Changing Equations. Migration Surveys and Biographical Data Collection in Delhi', New Delhi: Centre de Sciences Humaines, Contributions CSlf 97/7,1997. 23. .1. Brush, 'Recent changes in ecological patterns of metropolitan Bombay and Delhi', in V.K. Tewari,J.A. Weistein, V.L.S.P. Rao (eds.), Indian Cities. Ecological Perspectives, New Delhi: Concept, 1986, pp. 121-49. 24. DDA. Zonal Plan WalLed City. Drafl, New Delhi: Delhi Development Authority, 1993. 25. A.K. Mehra, TIl' Polities 0/ Urban RPdevelo!Jrllent. A Study oJ Old Delhi, New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1991, p. 50. 26. For example, at the time ofthe preparation ofthe Delhi Master Plan (1958-9), the planning division 'A', which includes the Walled City and ils extension, contained a population of 6,07,000. The Master Plan predicted that ils population would be reduced to 3,22,600 by 1981. However, 'the population of this division according to 1991 Census is 6,16,000 indicaling that the dedensification proposais of Delhi Masler Plan couId not be realized' (Jain, op. cit., p. 85). 27. DDA, Master Plan Jor Delhi. Penpeetive 2001, Prepared by Delhi Development Authority, New Delhi: Delhi Development Authority, 1990, p. 46. 28. HSMI, RPnewal oJHistoriral HousingStoek in Old Delhi, New Delhi: Indian Human Settlement Programme, HSMI Studies l, Human Sett/ement Management Institute, 1988, p. 4. 29. See TCPO, Seminar on Reclevelopml'llt oJ Shahjahanabad: the WalLed City oJDelhi (New Delhi, 31stfan.-lstFeb. 1995), Report and SeLectedPaper. RPsume oJtheSeminar, New Delhi: Town and Country Planning Organization, Government of India, Ministry of Works and Housing, 1975, p. 16. 30. See Mehra, op. cit., p. 46. 31. This rate-as weil as others mentioned in this essay-refen to the situation at the time of the survey, that isJanuary-March 1996. In 1997 lhe entry ralé for night shelterswas increased to Rs. 4. 32. ln the sampie surveyed in winter, 40 pel' cenl of the shelterless persons were sleeping in night shelters, 34 pel' cent in pavement dwelling areas with bedding facilities on rent, and 26 pel' cent in open spaces without renting any bedding facility. MOBILITY PAITERNS AND ECONOMIC STRATEGIES 123

33. The corresponding data for the 1991 Census were still not published when this essay was written. 34. In the 1991 Census, figures relating to literacy pertain to the population aged 7 and above. 35. Of the total sample of houseless migrants surveyed 24 per cent cited familial tensions of this type as their primary reasons for migrating to Delhi. Furthermore, about one-third of the 36 respondents selected for in-depth interviews mentioned similar tensions as significant to their migration tr~jectory. 36. Banetjee, op. cil., p. 79. 37. The question ofthe degree and type ofhelp received by the migrant at the time ofhis first arrivai in Delhi is however ambiguous since the perception of help or support is highly subjective and varies from one respondent to the other. For example, information about possible night shelters or pavement dwelling areas, or about specifie labour markets and employment opportunities was considered a form of help by sorne respondents, while others in a similar situation narrated their arrivai in Delhi as an ordeal in which they had to manage entirely on their own without outside support. Such discrepancies should be borne in mind when interpreting the fact that about two-thirds of the 33 decision-making migrants surveyed for in-depth interviews stated that they received sorne kind of help at the time of their arrivaI. 38. Ofthe 36 respondents to in-depth interviews, only 3 did not have any family members left in their native place. The statistical survey further confirms the significance of the familial house and visits to the family for houseless people. 39. C.Z. Gllilmoto and F. Sandron, 'Approche institutionnelle de la migration dans les pays en développement', Paper presented to the XXIII General Population Conference, IUSSP, Beijing (China), 1\-17 October 1997. 40. A.M. Shah, The Household Dimension oflhe Family in lndia, Delhi: Orient Longman, New Delhi, 1973; R. Skeldon, Pc;pulnlùm Moliilily in Devewping Counlries: A IIPinlerprelalion, London­ New York: Belhaven Press, 1990. 41. In this srudy, beggars are counted as workers, contrary to the conventions applied in official statistics like those ofthe census reports and National Sampie Surveys. However, it should be remembered that less than 1 per cent of the houseless people surveyed in Old Delhi reported beggary as a source of livelihood. 42. See Arora and Chhibber, op. cil., p. 5. 43. In fact the highest income reported was that of a transient pavement dweller-a ticket checker who had a permanent governmentjob in the railways, with a monthly salary of Rs. 4820. He had been transferred to Delhi sorne three weeks earlier and whilst waiting to get government accommodation, he was sleeping on a hired cot on open ground located just opposite Old Delhi Railway Station, his place ofwork. 44. This figure is calculated on the basis of the last published official estimate, that is Rs. 209.50 per capita per month in urban areas at 1991-2 priees, converted to present value by applying the index numbers of consumer prices for industrial workers in Delhi for the corresponding period. For a discussion on the concept ofpoverty line in the context of the houseless population ofOld Delhi, see Dupont and Tingal, op. cil., pp. 23-6. 45. Kundu, op. cil., p. 23, cited in M. Lee, 'The Mobilisation ofInformal Seetor Savings: the USAID Experience', paper presented at the International Workshop on Mobilisation of Informai Sector Savings, 8-12 December 1986, New Delhi: Society for Development Studies. 46. For example, among the houseless people surveyed who were previously staying in another place in Delhi (173 cases out of the total sample), 63 per cent reported 'better conditions ofaccommodation' (which included consideration ofclimatic factors) as the main reason for their last change ofsleeping place, while 24 per centgave 'employment related reasons'. 47. Namely a Public Interest Litigation case known as 'Olgas Tellis v. Bombay Municipal Corporalion' (Supreme Courl Cases, 1985 (3), pp. 555-90); see also S. Ahuja, People, Law and Juslice. Casebook on Public lnleresl Liligalion, New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1997, Chap. 8. 48. Supreme Court Cases, 1985 (3), p. 575. 49. In this case, the recognition by the Court of the conditions of the pavement dwellers did not prevent the Court from placing 'the prevention of public nuisance on public streets 124 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

higher on its list of prioritics than poverty' and declaring that these pavement dwellers were illegal (Ahuja, op. cit., p. 341). 50. Bharat Sevak Samaj, Shans ofotd Delhi, Delhi; Atma Ram & Sons, 1958, p. 197. 51. Or may he even their entire remaining life, insofar as the future plan of returning to the native place may never get realized. 52. D. Massey, J. Arango, G. Hugo, A. Kouaouci, A. Pellegrino and J.E. Taylor, 'Theories of International Migration: a Review and Appraisal', POjJUuJtion and Devetopment Rroiew, 19, no. 3. September 1993, pp. 431-66. 53. For example, in the conclusion of his primary survey of pavement dwellers and night shelter inmates in Delhi, Kuruvilla states: 'The choice of the pavement is mainly for reduction ofexpenses on housing, proximity to employment opportunities, ... availability of facilities, services, food and water and maximise savings to send back home. Thus it becomes a deliberate rational decision to live on the pavement' (Kuruvilla, op. cil., pp. 85-6). Jagannathan and Halder, in their study of the pavement dwellers in Calcutta, also infer; 'Pavement dwellers of the main stream vocations have chosen this lifestyle to protect their access to earning opportunities. In addition ... a substantial proportion are temporary migrants, who remit savings home to the village.' Funher; 'The majority of pavement dwellers live withoUl shelter as a deliberate rational decision, by which the expenditure on housing is reduced to zero' (jagannathan and Halder, 1988, op. cit., p.1177). 54. See for example: Bharat Sevak Samaj, 1958, op. cil., p. 107; Gupta, Kaul and Pandey, op. cit., p. 86; Suri, op. cil., p. 273; Kundu, op. cil., p. 65. 7

Markets and Intermediaries: An Enquiry about the Principles of"NIarket Economy in the Grain Market ofDelhi

DENIS VIDAL

If it is so, then the interaction of anthropology and economics may come for once to be more than an exchange ofexotic facts for parochial concepts and develop into a reciprocally seditious endeavour useful to both. CLIFFORD GEF.RTZ

Situated at the western edge of the Walled City, Naya Bazaar offers an impressive sight. Here, concentrated in a very small section of the old city, is not only the heartofthe grain marketofDe1hi, butone ofthe most important grain markets for the whole of Harth India. According ta market people, only 20 per cent of the grain which is negotiated here would be consumed in Delhi itself. It is also the main centre for grain export outside India. Naya Bazaar must be one of the most congested areas of Delhi bath during the day and at night. With the exception ofSundays and a few moments ofrelative quietude at dawn and dusk, there is no respite in this place which functions not only as a commercial centre but also as home ta hundreds of coolies who work here during the day.' The traders themselves, who once used to live above their shops, have slowly moved away to quieter places ofresidence outside the walled city. Along the main road and in a few adjacent streets, one finds during the day a constantflux ofcoolies, dalals (intermediaries), employees and traders, jostling together in the most indescribable chaos, made worse by the astonishing variety of vehicles. But, what really gives the place its identity and dominates the urban landscape is the mass of large jute bags full of grain, which seem to fill every possible vacant space in the area. However, the perpetuaI train ofvehicles, advancing slowly in the desperate attempt ta load or unload their sacks ofgrain in shops where bags never seem to cease accumulating is a rather deceptive sight: the bagswhich arrive at Naya Bazaar constitute only a fragment of the grain trade. This is just the semi-wholesale market oriented towards the relatively small clientele of individual shopkeepers in Delhi and its neighbourhood. The main part of the trade 126 DENIS VIDAL

(the wholesale trade) is less visible; it is negotiated mostly in the hundreds ofsmall offices which occupy each floor of the rather dilapidated buildings in the area. And apart from the omnipresence oftelephones, account books and computers which are becoming increasingly common, the only apparent manifestation of the innumerable transactions which represent hundreds and thousands of tons of cereals per day is the sight of a few grams ofgrain in small plastic bags which circulate from hand to hand between traders and intermediaries throughout the entire market.

IN SEARCH OF THE PRINCIPLES OF MARKET ECONOMYIN INDIA Historians of economic thought have remarked on the paradoxical circumstances which gave birth ta the development of economic theory in England. On the one hand, it was a time when people seemed painfully conscious of the diminishing importance of local fairs and markets where buyers and sellers negotiated the price ofagricultural goods directly between themselves. According to economic historians, this happened because of the extension ofregional trade in the grain marketwhich led to the increasing influence ofbig traders and trading intermediaries.2 But in spite ofthis-or more plausibly because ofÏt-this was also the time when the concept of the market as we know it today was developed. In this standard conception of the market, the active involvement of intermediaries in the functioning of every stage of the market process tends to be either ignored or underestimated. Furthermore, it is taken for granted that any interaction which does not favour the direct encounter between buyers and sellers can only constitute an impediment to the functioning of the market. An anthropological approach to markets can, however, offer a very different perspective. It obliges us to recognize that the aetivity of market inter­ mediaries is at the very centre of market mechanisms. As the ethnography of the grain market at Naya Bazaar illustrates, it is not that intermediaries block the market process but rather that they create it. More generally, there is a strange disjunction between the approaches used for analysing the market and those used for analysing other economic institutions. While it has been taken [orgranted that the bestway ofexplaining market institutions is to uncover the logic and rationality which under/ie them, it seems obvious to many that such an approach would not be very helpful ifapplied to other institutions. The main reason for this discrepancy is that the marketeconomy tends to be regarded as the only form ofeconomic organization whose principles offunction!ng are notdetermined by cultural values and social principles but rather by an independent logic of its own. This methodological bias has been aptly analysed by the sociologist, Mark Granovetter, in a well-known article concerning 'the problem of embeddedness'.3 He highlights the contrast between two equally un­ satisfactory tendencies in the study of economic institutions in the social MARKETS AND INTERMEDIARIES 127

sciences: on the one hand, the tendency of economists to adopt an 'undersocialized' conception of human action, especially when they study market institutions; on the other hand, the tendency of sociologists and social anthropologists to adopt an 'oversocialized' perspective whenever they study any form ofeconomic activity which cannot immediately be identified as a market process. There is little doubt that the study ofeconomic institutions in India has greatly suffered from this double bias. There has been a tendency to consider market institutions as alien to the fundamental characteristics of Indian culture and society and as essentially an import from the West. As a result, the economic history and sociology of India has for a long time been particularly distorted: not only have the importance of market institutions and market processes been underestimated in Indian sociology and history, there has also been a contrary tendency to exaggerate the importance of other forms of economic logic (like the so-called jajrnani system) in Indian society. It is only in recent years that economic historians and social anthropologists have begun trying to revise such a perspective.4 While it no longer makes sense to deny the importance of market institutions in the history or sociology of India by attributing them ta influences of only relatively recent origins, this change of perspective has potential consequences which have not yet been fully realized. One might be to shift the nature of the debate, which has long been at the centre of economic sociology and political discourse in India. We need to get beyond the endless discussion of the degree to which Western principles ofpolitical economy and economic theories should or should not be applied to societies like India-a debate, which takes us from Max Weber to Polanyi and others. There are other questions which are surely much more central to our understanding ofeconomic processes. In particular, we might consider how research done in the Indian context might enable us to challenge the use and legitimacy of economic theories, which may be inappropriate not only in the Indian context but also more generally in other social and cultural settings. In other words, the real challenge today is not simply to avoid the two traps of cultural rclativism and pseudo-universalism; rather, it is to consider fully the epistemological consequences of those analyses which contradict the dominant models of economic and sociological thought whether in India or in other par~s ofthe world, rather than simply reducing them to the status of local oddities. It is this direction that 1 have tried to follow in my own analysis, based on an empirical investigation of the functioning of the grain market in the bazaars of Old Delhi.

Bazaars and Markets One of the most interesting attempts to contrast the market with another form of economic institution was made in the 1960s by Clifford Geertz in his well-known article about the economic logic of the bazaar in Morocco.5 128 DENIS VIDAL

The merit ofGeertz' analysis was his avoidance of the trap ofassuming that one should give a central role to social and cultural factors in explaining bazaar transactions on the one hand, butdiscarding them automatically while describing market principles on the other. The core ofGeertz' demonstration may be briefly summarized as follows: what distinguishes the bazaar from the market is notlocal traditions as such butrather the way in which economic actors get access to relevant information in both cases: the sortofinteraction which prevails in the bazaar is an expression of the fact that such a market rewards a clinical form ofsearch (one which focuses on the diverging interest of concrete economic actors) more that it does a survryform (one which focuses on the general interplay offunctional1y defined economic categories). Search is primarily intensive because the sort of information one needs cannot be acquired by asking a handful of index questions of a large number of people, but only by asking a large number of diagnostic questions of a handful of people. It is this kind of questioning, exploring nuances rather than canvassing populations, that bazaar bargaining represents. Geertz concludes his article by explaining that 'here as elsewhere in the bazaar, everything rests finally on a personal confrontation between intimate antagonists'. Geertz also rightly notices that clientelized transactions do not necessarily exclude a more extensive form of survey in the bazaar. Rather, such surveys constitute preambles to the real transactions to be made among a 'firmly clientelized buyer and seller exploring the dimensions ofa particular, likely to be consummated transaction'.6

Neither a Market nor a Bazaar At first sight it would appear that Geertz' analysis is relevant to most bazaars and markets of India. It certainly appears appropriate for analysing the general behaviourofbuyers and sellers in the different markets ofüld Delhi. However, there are certain reservations. The type of behaviour Geertz describes and on which he bases his analysis applies only to transactions. It is only in this case that one can draw an effective contrast between 'extensive' and 'intensive' forms of search for economic information; or that one can oppose anonymous styles of market interactions with more personalized ones between buyers and sellers. However, an analyses ofthe sort ofcommercial transactions which take place between buyers and sellers at the wholesale level in Indian markets and bazaars, changes not only the style but also the whole process and inner logic ofthe transactions. Not only can one no longer contrast different sorts ofeconomic transaction on the basis ofthe knowledge that buyers and sellers individually possess, but more fundamentally, one can no longer consider the confrontation between buyers and sellers as a central element of the market institution. Rather, as 1 shaH demonstrate, it is the presence of intermediaries and the different functions they assume that defines the characteristics of the market. In exploring the reasons why market MARKETS AND INTERMEDlARIES 129 intermediaries play such a fundamental role, my aim is notsimply to highlight the specificities ofwholesale markets as such, but rather to go beyond this to reconsider our understanding of the market economy as a whole.

THE GRAIN MARKET IN DELHI Naya Bazaar, in spite ofits importance, constitutes only one of the elements of the grain market in the capital. Due to historical circumstances in the commercial development ofthe city, it is, for example, in the smaller market of Rui Mandi near-by that the wholesale market for cereal is concentrated. One will also find in adjacent areas separate grain markets of lesser importance, selling on a retail basis the produce which they have just purchased in Naya Bazaar. Similarly, ail around the market, one finds areas where different sorts of trades and services, which cater to the specific needs of grain traders are concentrated. There are, for example, street corners which specialize in recycling jute bags or in making and renting the thetas (trolleys) which coolies use for transporting grain. As long as trains were the main means of u-ahsporting grain, the centrality of the old city remained a relative asset for stocking grain in spite of the congestion. However, this is no longer the case. Almost ail traders nowadays prefer to use trucks which, though slightly more expensive, are both faster and more reliable. It is only in the case of big traders negotiating entire shipments of grain, generally for export, that transportation by trains is still preferred. As a result, it has become both advantageous and cheaper ta have godowns outside the old city. Godowns are now disseminated throughout the peripheryand in the immediate vicinity ofDelhi. A significant number ofthem are concentrated in the northern part ofthe capital known as Lawrence Road. There, besides the hundreds of godowns which give a strange deserted look ta the area, are numerous small factories where sorne of the grain which transits thmugh Delhi is also processed before being resold and sent again outside the city. While the majority of traders, commercial intermediaries and accountants are stilllocated at Naya Bazaar, it is at Lawrence Road that onefinds the most importantcontingentofcoolies, peons and factory workers associated with the grain market.

The People

It is difficult ta estimate the number ofpeople whose activities are directly linked to the grain market in Delhi. Such an attempt poses methodological problems. However, it may be convenientin this essay to offer an approximate estimation ofthe numbers ofpeople involved in the different activities which play a prominent role in the organization of the market as a whole.7 the number of palledan (coolies) can be estimated at 10,000, with just under a third working in Naya Bazaar and the other two-thirds workip..~ 130 DENIS VIDAL

mostly in Lawrence Road and other godowns disseminated throughout the city. Most of them are associated with particular traders but a few work on a freelance basis. the number of peons can be estimated at between 2,000 and 3,000. the number of accountants between 3,000 and 4,500. the number of traders between 3,000 and 5,000. the number of intermediaries is something which the market people themselves find most difficult to evaluate. While the official number seems to stand at around 5,000, not all of them are effectively active in the market at the same time. Only one or two thousand of them are based at Naya Bazaar and no more than half of them are constantly active. The otherslive outside Delhi and do not necessarily come regularly to the market. the number of people associated with the various mOGes of transport which cater almost exclusively ta the needs of the grain trade may be estimated at between 5 and 10,000. the number ofworkers in the faetories processing grain in Delhi is also difficult to evaluate. Itis estimated that there are about 500 grain factories which employ an average of 10 to 20 people, meaning that their sum total would consist of sorne 5 to 10,000 workers. There are, without doubt, many other people whose acti"lties could be included in this list, but even if one considers only the few categories mentioned here, the people directly associated with this market could number anything between thirty and fortY thousand. However, more interesting than their exact number is the distribution ofcaste, class, gender, religious and regional identities amongst them.1t is noticeable, for example, that nearly all traders in the grain market are Hindu, belong to merchant castes and trace their origins to Haryana or the Punjab (more than 90 per cent of them, according to those questioned). One does not find such homogeneity among other groups. For example only 65 per cent of da/als and only 40 per cent ofaccountants are thought to belong ta the merchant castes. The distribution ofBrahmins in differentroles in the marketfollows the opposite trajectory. Whilst amongst the traders there are almost no Brahmins, amongst da/ais we find roughly 20 per cent and amongst accountants 30 per cent Brahmins. Caste, regional origin and economic power are all significant factors of identity in the market place but their particular relevance varies in different professions. For example, although the traders share a similar background in terms ofregion and caste, it is their access to capital that gives them their distinctiveness in the market. Among coolies it is regional origin ralher than caste identity that is emphasized. In each case what really matters are the networks that one's identity enables one ta tap into both in terms ofbusiness and social relations. However one cannot fail to notice the almost total absence ofMuslims in the marketwith the exception ofa few Muslim coolies mainly from Rajasthan. MARKETS AND INTERMEDIARIES 131

The Trade Most of the grain which passes through Delhi is neither produced nor processed nor consumed in Delhi itself. The grain marketofDelhi constitutes one ofmany elements in the global networkwhich feeds the grain market of north India. Before the grain reaches the market in Delhi, most of it has already gone through the hands oflocal and regional traders. Moreover, in the case of rice, itwill also have passed through the hands offactory owners for processing. Similarly, when it leaves Delhi, it will generally be resold to other regional traders whowill go on to sell it to shopkeepers before it finally reaches the consumer. Delhi's importance as one of the largest grain markets of Asia cannot however be understood purely in terms ofeCQnomic logic. A varietyoffactors, political and historical as weIl as fiscal and cultural, come into play. Delhi's relative proximity to the most fertile tracts of the Indo-Gangetic plain and the importance of a trading community which has kept multiple links with these regions play an important role; as does the centrality of Delhi in the railway networkoflndia and the existence ofan important consumer market which guarantees the existence of a minimal demand for agricultural products. However, the importance of Delhi as the epicentre of grain transaction also rests on more fragile foundations: according to market people, one of the main reasons why most of the grain passes through the capital and is not sent directly from the producer to the consumer area is fiscal. Similarly, the importance ofDelhi as the main place for the export of rice is primarily due to reasons which are more political and institutional than strictly economic. Technically, itis due to the fact that Delhi has obtained the legal and fiscal status of a 'dry port',8 but it is no doubt also influenced by the fact that Delhi, as the capital, is also the place where political decisions are taken and policies made. Not only are the reasons for the centrality of Delhi in the network of grain markets in north India many, but the general organization ofthe grain trade itselfis also rather intricate. Basically, the market for grains and pulses in no'rth India is divided into two. This is because the Indian government enforces an agricultural policy whereby a large proportion of each year's production ofgrain is sold to the state at prices fixed by the administration. Government institutions also have the responsibility for storing and distributing this partofthe produce; or eventually selling it on the free market in order to regulate the price of agricultural goods. Such a policy is increasingly being contested nowadays, partly because of the general trend toward liberalization and partly due to accusations of inefficiency and em­ bezzlement against the government. Nevertheless, one should not forget that itwas the direct involvementofthe Indian state in the grain market that helped India attain its nutritional autonomy from the 1960s; and also that in spite ofits relative inefficiency, the procurement system plays a role in fighting speculation, price variations and hoarding practices in the grain market.9 Finally, there is no guarantee that the fullliberalization of the grain market 132 DENIS VIDAL would, in any sense, be more profitable for the ordinary people of India. But whatever the case may be, it is the remaining part of each year's production which is traded on a free-market basis in Naya Bazaar and in the other grain markets of north India. The importance of this free-market should not, however, be under­ estimated, not only because it is one of the market places where representa­ tives of the state intervene, often massively, in their attempt to stabilize the priee and the supply of food grain in India, but also because the physical trade and turnover of a market like Naya Bazaar is far greater than what official records and statistics imply.1O This is particularly the case because Naya Bazaar remains one of the most important markets for agricultural products which has succeeded in avoiding becoming officially a 'regulated' market. Il The market people of Delhi are among the very few trading communities to have managed successfully to retain the entire and exclusive control of a market of such importance. This is also what makes it such an interesting place for studying the role ofintermediaries.

THE INVENTION OF THE MARKET SCENE

The Making 0/Marketable Goods One of the most common activities tlIat can be seen in Naya Bazaar is the making up ofgrain samples. This is done by using an instrument known as a parkhi, which looks somewhat like a dagger with a small gutter down the centre. The instrument is inserted into the side ofa bag of grain in such a way that when it is withdrawn it brings with it a few grains for inspection. According to the number of bags which have to be checked, the trader or his assistant will systematically take tiny samples of grains from each bag or from an arbitrary selection of them. Nowadays, the samples are generally kept in small plastic bags withjust a few indications written on them regarding the provenance and the quantity of the grain. But in Naya Bazaar it is still possible to see intermediaries using the old technique oftransporting samples in carefully knotted folds of clotho It might appear to sorne that the technique of creating samples constitutes only a small ethnographie detail which does not have much to do either with the general organization ofthe market or with the principles of market economy. But as 1 have briefly hinted before, this is not the case: in more than one sense this very simple technique ofsampling could be said to define the specifie space of the market more than anything else. There are various points at stake here. The first obvious point is that grain is both voluminous and heavy in proportion to its cost and it is there­ fore difficult to survey precisely what each bag contains. Traders and intermediaries have to deal everyday with transactions which represent hundreds oftons ofgoods. This is obviously difficult to do. There are basically two ways of transmitting information: either 'analogically' by transmit­ ting sorne of the physical qualities of the' data through a channel of MARKETS AND INTERMEDIARIES 133 communication; or 'digitally' by coding all the relevant information. The choiee of method employed in trading is no different. The use of samples can be considered as an 'analogical' technique while the use ofa 'gradation' system in order to communicate the quality of the grain can be identified a 'digital' one. In India there have been numerous attempts to introduce a system of gradation which could conveniently be used by all market people to assess more simply and more quickly the quality of grain all over the country.12 Such a system of grading has effectively been put into use in the case of certain agricultural products but it has not been generalized until now in the case of Naya Bazaar. Market people are on the whole opposed to the idea. According to them there arejust too many types ofgrain of too many different qualities for such a system to be functional; it would either be too imprecise or too complicated. Only the biggest traders and exporters seem to be in favour of such a system. But they are also keen that the grain production of the entire country be radically homogenized because of the specific requirement of their politic ofcommercialization. The quick succession of small gestures which allow traders and com­ mercial intermediaries to assess the quality of a grain sample have a quasi­ ritual quality and it is obvious to any observer that it is at such moments that market people employ aIl their commercial acumen. Itis on the basis of this that they will make their own estimation of the price they are ready to pa)' for the grain. They will also have tojudge the quality of grain and ca1culate what the potential çlemand for it might be, according to its price and the evolution of the market. Another noticeable point in the way market people use such samples is their apparent absenee of doubt about whether the grain they eventually receive will correspond to the sample. One might think this irrelevantbecause traders generally pay for the totality of the grain they buy only after they have had the chance to check its quantity and quality. But it must also be recognized that at the time that they check it, any calling into question of the deal would certainly be contested andwould become a matter ofirritation and loss of time if not a direct loss ofmoney for all the operators involved. Neither should one conclude that the possibility that a load of grain does not correspond to what is expected is so uncommon in this trade. Two examples serve to Ulustrate the point. The first coneerns the difficulties encountered by Indian exporters on the international marketafter the exceptional year of1995-6. Itso happened that in this year India was practically the only big rice-growing country to have had a good level ofproduction while the production among nearly all the other main rice suppliers of the world was low. As a result India had the opportunity to exportmore than it had ever done before on the international market.'~ And because huge quantities had been kept in reserve in state granaries, which proved unnecessary because ofthe abundance ofthe crop. the government institutions in charge ofthese reserves were allowed to sell huge quantities ofrice to exporters at the market priee. At the time no one 134 DENIS VIDAL bothered much about the quality of the rice. This was the rice which was usually sold in. government shops to people who are not in a position to protest. 14 But foreign importers we're inevitably more fastidious. As a consequence, well-established exporters complained the following year that speculators had, within a single year, succeeded in lowering India's reputation on the international rice market.15 The second example takes us ta the other end of the economic and geographic spectrum. Just adjacent to one side of Naya Bazaar is an un­ authorized market, populated almost exclusively by immigrant Biharis. Here grain is sold to Delhites ofmodestincome at heavily discounted plices. These shops are filled with grain, which has been sold by the traders ofNaya Bazaar at a cheap rate, usually because, for sorne reason, it did not fit their expectations when they checked its quality. One of the petty traders of this market explained the principle of a trick which consisted of asking accomplices to add discreetly a little dirt to one or two bags of rice of good qua!ity so that when a trader in Naya Bazaar takes his sample he is likely to reject the bags and to end up selling them very cheaply to marginal traders. Such examples are obviously extreme; taken too far they would imply a radical contrast between how tra,ders behave when they deal with insiders or with outsiders: while according to one example they do not hesitate to discount a bag of best quality rice if it contains a !iule dirt, according to the other example, they are apparently less scrupulous in dealing with public organizations or with the foreign market. Such an interpretation would surely be exaggerated. Nevertheless, knowing the difficulties linked with the assessment of the quality of the merchandise in this trade, one should not underestimate the achievement ofa market organization which allows a few thousand people to make transactions which may amount to thousands of bags of 100 kg everyday, on the basis of a few handfuls of grain circulating from hand to hand. This is possible precisely because market transactions combine two sorts of interpersonal relationship. On the one hand, buyers and sellers remain largely anonyrnous to each other ; on the other hand, at every stage of the market process, transactions are made exclusively by persons who know each other personally. These two relationships no longer seem contradictory once we begin to recognize the l'ole ofthe intermediary in the functioning of the market.1t is because all transactions are mediated by them that buyers and sellers don't have to know each other; but it is also because of their presence and of their intimate knowledge of all market actors that ail transactions are done between persons who know each other.

The Personification ofthe Market Actors Naya Bazaar is certainly one ofthe most crowded areas ofDelhi. But unlike many other parts of the old city this crowding is not due to the influx of clients and passers-by. As a matter of fact, one could spend days observing the activity of the market and the unfolding of transactions, without ever meeting any of the people who have either supplied or bought the grain MARKETS AND INTERMEDIARIES 135

sold in the market. If by any chance one of them happens to come to the market it is usually not to negotiate or conclude a deal butrather to socialize with traders, to check the pulse ofmarket activity, to resolve a problem or to settle a dispute. Basically, the only people there who are not based in Delhi are commercial intermediaries who have come on behalfoffactory owners or regional traders in order to sell some grain to the Delhi traders. As a consequence, one of the main characteristics of this market is the way in whieh it functions almost exclusively on the basis of transactions between the market people of Naya Bazaar themselves. One proof is the fact that if one were coming to the market in order to buy or to sell anything without being represented or, at least, very strongly introduced and recommended by some insider, not only would that person risk being neglected but he would also find that the only possible transaction open to him would be the direct exchange ofcash against merchandise. In other words, he would not be allowed to benefit from the full potentialities of the market. The attraction of Delhi as one ofthe most important market places for the grain trade is, as already pointed out, due to a variety offactors. Among them one reason which seems to have played a particularly importantrole is the major way in which the traders of Delhi have always assumed not only the role of trader but also that ofan adati (commission agent). Basically, the traders of Naya Bazaar have been able to attract a large supply of grain (especially after the harvestwhen the priees are low) by offering to pay their clients in advance approximately 70 or 80 per cent of the sum they will get later on when their grain will be sold in the market place. Once this is done, they will give the grain seller the remaining part ofthe priee, and only then claim their own commission. What is remarkable about such a procedure is that large reserves of grain immediately disposable for sale are continuously stocked in the capital. And because Delhi traders generally offer credit to the buyers of the grain, Naya Bazaar benefits from the reputation of being the place where, at any given point of time, supplies are abundant and transactions swift and not too hampered by heavy administrative control. On the one hand, suppliers have some sort of guarantee that they can get almost immediately a large percentage of the priee they want for their grain, without having to face the alternative ofwaitingfor a customer or to sell their grain too cheaply; on the other hand, buyers will also be reasonably sure that at any given time they will be able to find the quantity and the quality ofgrain they need. As already noted, one ofthe basic assumptions ofthe economic literature about markets is that the confrontation between buyers and sellers is the focal point in any market transaction. It is of course recognized that such a confrontation is often mediated by ail sorts ofintermediaries. But the latter are generally perceived to he standingin for the real partners ofthe exchange. If they involve themselves in a deal, they are quickly suspected of distorting the functioning of the market process. But in the case ofa market like Naya Bazaar, it is practically the opposite whieh is true. Not only do the buyers and sellers seldom meet each other; but the distinction between a trader 136 DENIS VIDAL who buys a load ofgrain in order to sell it later to one of his customers and the one who does it from the beginning on behalfofone ofhis customers is almost imperceptible. More fundamentally, the practice of traders who are being paid only on a commission basis but who nevertheless advance most of the price of the grain to the seller before the transaction takes place, blurs practically any distinction between the main partners of a transaction (the 'real' buyers and the 'real' sellers) and the intermediaries. It does not make sense to consider a trader who has paid in advance 80 per cent of a load of grain which is stocked in a godown belonging to him and who has the charge of selling it on behalf of his client as a simple intermediary. Similarly, if he buys sorne grain with his own money for a client who has given precise indications ofthe quality and quantity ofgrain he wants, and if he takes only a fixed commission on the price, will he be considered as a trader or as a commission agent? Such distinctions seem somewhatimmaterial at the time of the transaction. Let us now summarize: ln the streets of Naya Bazaar, not only are huge loads ofgrain replaced by tiny samples ofgrain but, as we havejustseen, the people who sell the grain to Delhi and those who buy it from Delhi are 'replaced' by the market people who more or less assume their roles during the transaction. But this is not ail. There is yet another aspect to the 'immateriality' of the functioning of this market that 1 wish to stress. One normally will not see, either at Naya Bazaar or elsewhere in Delhi, traders negotiating directly the exact terms of a transaction. If necessary, there is the possibility ofcontacting each other by telephone, fax or letter. But until now these remain only auxiliary channels of communication. Normally aIl transactions which take place between market aetors are mediated by specialized intermediaries who interpose themselves not only on behalf of outsiders who cannot be presentin Delhi but also on behalfofinsiders within the market itself. Almost all transactions take place through intermediaries.16 As one trader explained to me: even if he had to negotiate a deal with his immediate neighbours, he would always prefer to do it through an intermediary.

The Making ofTransactions Every morning, dozens ofintermediaries will visit each trader in Naya Bazaar to enquire if they have sorne load of grain to be sold. Mter assessing the quality of the samples, they will enter into discussion with the traders to sort out what can be reasonably expected from a given load of grain. Having made their first round of the traders, they will have a certain amount of grain sampies and will renew contact with certain traders, either by telephoning them or by meeting them directly. This time their aim will be not only to assess the offer ofthe day but also to find in the market a demand which corresponds to il. Though one should not take such estimations too seriously, 1have tried to calculate the number ofpersonal interactions which take place bctween traders and intermediaries in the market every working MARKETS AND INTERMEDIARIES 137 day: according to this estimate, there should be no less than 30,000 of them (and probably much more). Once market intermediaries have found a potential demand for an offer of grain on the market, they will be used as go-betweens throughout the duration ofthe transaction, which will normally last anything from one to three days. It is generally only after the conditions of a deal have been agreed to that the partners of the transaction will enter into a brief contact, usually by telephone, in order ta confirm their agree­ ment. But if they trust the intermediaries and know with whom they are dealing, they often will not bother making even this brief contact. Moreover, the intermediaries function more than simply as go-betweens. Even if they are not financially or legally responsible, their reputations are at stake when they organize or supervise a deal. When they buy grain, traders consider it equally the responsibility ofthe intermediaries in whom they put their trust to make sure that the quality ofthe grain effectively corresponds to what they have been shown in the sample. And when they go on to sell it, they expect a certain guarantee that the buyers will effectively repay their credit. Finally, in a market like Naya Bazaar, the conditions of a transaction obviously have to be agreed to by aIl the partners involved. Generally, there is no written contract to confirm the tenns of agreement. Thus, one of the most important functions of market intermediaries is to stand as witnesses to any agreements that are made under their supervision.

THE LOGIC OF THE MARKET What makes the importance of a market place like Naya Bazaar, and what distinguishes it fundamentally from a simple collection of individual firms, is the fact that most transactions involve at least four main protagonists: besides the ones who supply the grain to Delhi and those who buy it from Delhi, there are generally two local traders who play an intermediary role in the transaction (acting eitheras traders strieto sensu or as commission agents). Moreover, as 1have alreadypointed out, dalals are also used as intermediaries to establish and maintain the contact between each of these 'main actors'. The fact that there are two traders rather than one involved directly in most market transactions may seem yet again an insignificant detail. However, itis precisely this fact which changes the nature ofthe majority oftransactions in the market: as long as a trader sells only what he has already bought or buys only what he will be able to sell to his own clients, the extent of his operations will necessarily be limited; but if traders do not hesitate-as appears to be the case-to sell to their own customers whatever grain is available on the market, and if they do not hesitate either to buy grain in order to sell it themselves or on behalfoftheir clients to other marketpeople, then each ofthem is able to give their clients access to aIl the demands and/ or supplies available in the market. Or, rather they are able to do it insofar as they are able to diffuse market information and to facilitate transactions which may involve and mobilize quickly a vast number oflocal traders. 138 DENIS VIDAL

What characterizes such a market, then, is the fact that it blurs the distinction which is usually made between bazaars and markets, and more generally between 'real' markets and supposedly less 'rational' institutions. Basically, in this system people only effectuate transactions with those they know. Vet, at the same time, they get access through these intermediaries to all the other resources available in the market place.

The Inevitability ofInterrnediaries Intermediaries are generally ill considered in any sort of deal. It is not surprising to find that the connotations associated with the term dalal in India are none too flattering. The mediation of a dalal in any transaction rapidly evokes the image of a world of opacity, of dubious patronage and shady negotiations, if not more radically, of illegality, blackmail, and corruption. Many people in the Indian capital feel that the role of dalals in most domains of the social and economic life ofDelhi should be deplored or perceived as sorne sort ofsocial pathology. Nonetheless it is worth noting that two different criticisms are often blended in such condemnation in spite of being based on very different sets of implicit assumptions: On the one hand, the intervention ofdalalsin diverse social transactions is commonly considered ablatantsymptom ofthe extent to which commercialization and financial greed have pervaded the sociallife of the whole city. In this sense they are perceived as the very personification ofthe logic ofthe market. But on the other hand, they are often also perceived to represent the proof that a particular society or a specific economic sector has not yet attained the status ofa mature market. Viewed in this perspective market intermediaries are criticized for introducing a strong element of opacity into economic transactions. "''bat1have attempted to show in this essay is that the distinction between a market like Naya Bazaar and a simple collection ofindividual traders lies mainly in the existence ofintermediaries who mediate between the partners of commercial transactions. It would be erroneous to assume that with the generalization ofmarket culture, intermediaries such as those found in Naya Bazaar will disappear. ln fact, the idea that markets could exist without intermediaries is really little more than an intellectual illusion or ideological mystification. The condemnation of dalals is little more than the con­ demnation of market institution itself. But of course, intermediaries can always change their tune. Perhaps the dalals ofthe future will all have degrees in marketing and advertising.

NOTES

The research for this project on the grain market of Delhi is part of a collaborative project between the French Institute ofResearch for Development (IRD,Paris), the Centre de Sciences Humaines (CSH, New Delhi) and the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies (CSDS, New Delhi). It has benefited from the financial support of IRD and the CNRS (action concertée en sciences sociales IRD-CNRS). 1 want ta thank particularly the people of MARKETS AND INTERMEDlARlES 139

Khari Baoli who have been kind enough to Lake interest in my research and answer patiently my questions. And 1 would like to thank also Rajender Singh Negi whose personal assistance has been invaluable for the ethnographic study ofthis market in 1997.

I. See Véronique Dupont's essay in this volume. 2. Cf. in particular, F. Braudel, Civilisation matérielle, Economie et Capitalisme, XV-XVIlIème siecle, T 2. Les jrox de l'échange, Paris: Armand Collin, 1979. 3. M. Granovetter, 'EconomicAction and Social Structure: The Problem ofEmbeddedness', in M. Granovetter and R. Swedberg (eds.), The Soeiology ofEconomie Life, Boulder: Westview Press, 1992. 4. For example, cf. CJ. Fuller, 'Misconceiving the Grain Heap: a Critique of the Concept of the Indian Jajmani System', in Parry and Bloch, Money and the Morality of Exehange, Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1989 and S. Subrahmanyam 'Institutions, Agency and Economic Change in South Asia: a Survey and Sorne Suggestions', in B. Stein and S. Subrahmanyam, Institutions and Economie Change in South Asia, Delhi: OUP, 1996. 5. C. Geertz, 'The Bazaar Economy: Information and Search in Peasant Marketing', in M. Granovetter and R. Swedberg (eds.), TheSoeiology ofEconomie Life, Boulder: Westview Press, 1992. 6. Ibid., p. 230 (the three quotations). 7. These figures have been obtained by using a combination of quantitative and qualitative measures with the help of traders and diverse professionaIs associated with the market. 8. The expression 'dry port' basically means that ail customs operations and formalities concerning the exportation and importation ofgoods can be done within Delhi itselfas if itwere a border. The goods, therefore, remain in sealed containers on the Indian territory before eventually being shipped abroad. 9. In contrast with the very small body of literature dedicated to the empirical functioning ofwholesale markets like the one which is studied here (for an exception see the works of Barbara Harriss-White (in particular: B. Harriss-White, A Politieal Economy ofAgricultural Marluits in South India, Delhi: Sage, 1996), there is an abundance on the appraisal of the procurement palicy by the Indian State. Cf. S.S. Acharya and N.L. Agarwal, Agricultural Marluiting in India, Delhi: OUP, 1987, pp. 216-302. la. 'In 1994-1995, as much as 60 per cent ofthe food subsidy in 1994-1995 went to finance the buffer stock, sales on the open market, or export (World Bank 1996)'. P. Balakrishnan and B. Ramaswami, Economie and Politieal Weekly, 25-31 January 1997, p. 165. 1I. For an excellent study of the impact of regulation on agricultural markets in India, cf. B. Harriss-White 'Order, Order ... Agro-<:ommercial Micro-Structures and the State: The Experience of Regulation' in B. Stein and S. Subrahmanyam, op. cit., 1996. 12. Ibid., pp. 81-93. 13. In 1995-6, India, which only began to export rice in the late seventies, emerged as the second largest world exporter with about 5 millions of tons. 14. Cf. P. Balakrishnan and B. Ramaswami, 'Quality of Public Distribution System. Why it matters', Economie and Politieal Weekly, 25-31 January 1997, p. 162. 15. One could even find a mild echo of this polemic in the very offical magazine of the AIl India Rice Exports Association: 'Today, though we have managed to make our presence felt in the graph ofglobal rice trade, yet till now we are not able to create a goodwill which USA or Thailand enjoys. However, few Indian rice shipments made last year byopportunist exporters and importers did invite sorne criticism on the quality front', Rice India,January 1997, p. 21. 16. '1 never go to meet my parties. l've "seen" Sethji also only on phone. It is for the first time that 1am seeing him face to face. It's the mutual trust that makes ail the difference in this trade. And 1 too have come here for the reasons of restoring that trust.' Excerpt of an interviewduring an arbitration meeting at the Delhi Grain MerchantAssociation, 14April 1997.

PART III

MONUMENTSOFPO~R

8

The Contemporary Architecture of Delhi: The Role of the State as Middleman

A.C. KRISHNA MENON

Delhi 'looks' different. A visitor to Delhi is struck by the nature ofits physical development, which sets it apart from other urban centres in the country. In fact it is so different that it would be incorrect to generalize about other Indian cities from the Delhi experience. 'Delhi is not India, and India not Delhi' is a cautionary maxim for any would-be theorist. Vet, architectural critics have generalized indiscriminately and have been unable to distinguish the characteristics that set Delhi apart from the rest of the country. Instead of studying the diverse range of regional architectures, they have pursued pan-Indian themes and constructions of 'Indian identity' in their efforts to explain the architecture ofthe country as a whole and, in turn, that ofDelhi. This is largely because of their Orientalist predisposition in thinking architecturel and also because the architecture ofDelhi does, perhaps, share sorne characteristics with the architecture of other parts of the country. After aU, Delhi shares the same construction industry characterized by its primitive technology and archaic management practices. It also shares the same architectural culture and often the same architects who are products of a common system of education.2 Even the attitude of the patrons is surprisingly common in the manner they deal with architects and architecture aU over this diverse country, whether they be elite patrons, bureaucrats, executives in industrial and commercial organizations or the public-at-Iarge in whose name much is built: the history of modernization in the country has ta a greatextent marginalized the role ofthe architect in the development ofthe builtenvironment and contributed to unflattering perceptions oftheir work as professionaIs. These perceptions are also the outcome ofthe sociology ofthe profession as it has developed from its colonial roots.3 People commonly believe that the services of the architect are easily substituted by the skiU and knowledge of a common mason, or by a civil engineer if the safety of the structure is under consideration, or by any indigent architect available and wiUing ta work at ridiculously low fees. Architects and architecture in Delhi share aU these 'problems' with the rest of the country. 144 A.G. KRISHNA MENON

But what sets Delhi apart is the strong interventionist l'ole of the state in the deve10pment of the profession and the physical constituents of the city. The state has been a strong presence ail over the country because until recently, the government was attempting to impose a Soviet-inspired command economy to bring about development. But the influence ofstate control has been particularly strong in Delhi, because ofits special adminis­ trative status as the capital ofthe country. Until recently, Delhi was administred directly by the central government. It now enjoys political autonomy but this is still contingent on close co­ ordination with the central government on ail policy matters. Therefore, it is hardly surprising to find that in the past the architecture of Delhi has been decisively mediated by the agency of the state in a manner and to a scale not witnessed in other Indian cities or states. The state as middleman has brokered a disproportionately large share of the country's scarce resources for the development of Delhi, and the results of this bounty are manifestly evident: to the pOOl' from distant crisis-prone areas in terms of job opportunities and bounty and to the better offin terms ofbetter services, amenities and facilities. The metaphor that Delhi's roads are paved with gold rings true to many and has attracted migrants of ail classes from every part of the country making it one ofthe fastest growing metropolises in the country.4 But how has this munificence influenced the act of form-making and place-making in Delhi?

THE EXHIBITION PROJECT 1'0find out, the TVB School ofHabitatStudies, New Delhi (TVBjSHS) under­ took a research projectduring the academic year 1997-8 as an extra-eurrieular programme involving a large number of srudents and faculty. The mass of data collected and the debates they provoked are still being analysed, and will, no doubt, provide grist for much theorizing long after the project is completed. Butan empirical understanding ofDelhi's architecture is already emerging and taking shape in the form of a critical exhibition of con­ temporary architecture in Delhi. This essay is essentally a personal reflection but is derived and based on that collective exercise. The research project was predicated on two premises: first, that Indian academics' involvement in 'thinking' architecture had been insufficient for arriving at appropriate theories; and second, the little theorizing that had been attempted was invariably cast in an Orientalist mould which homogenized a diverse range ofregional architectures and architectures-in­ the-making, under the overall rubric of'Indianness'. From a methodological perspective, itwas also decided that the project should focus on a part ofthe whole, surveying about 200 buildings built in Delhi since 1947, in an attempt to gain empirical understanding ofthe circumstances which governed their production, and to identify patterns and processes which would hclp to illuminate the specificity of the architecture ofDelhi. THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 145

The understanding that is emerging from this study contests the impression one gets from the literature available on the architectures of India which implies that a single meta-narrative has dominated the architectural production of buildings of significance in the country: that is the search for 'Indianness'.5 But one knows by common sense and also simply by looking around that this must never have been the case: deeper reflection on this point would inevitably reveal the multiplicity of narratives of architectural development during the past fifty years, each as varied as the diverse region,s of the country. One would realize that the many regional architectures have been contested and redefined by different communities to create what is todaya truly ec1ectic variety of architecture in the country; yet, the focus ofarchitectural writing has persistently been on imagined pan­ Indian themes. The cultural process ofcontestation and reflexive redefinition is clearly evident in the rich variety ofliterature found in the country" and in the diversity offine arts;' but no one has seriously attempted to examine the existence ofsuch variety in the field ofarchitecture. As in the case ofliterature and the arts, such an attempt requires a critical shift offocus in architectural theorizing away from pan-Indian themes to more regional, context-specific ones. The need to shift the focus from the whole to the part is already acknowledged in other parts of the world where the purposeful study of regional architecture is accepted as an useful academic objective. Writing about the American scene, Rafael Maneo states,

Today's American scene seems to reflect the decentralized, or many-centered, structure ofthis country more than ever. Itwould be impossible to speak of 'style' or 'manner' without associating these with a specifie geographical location or with a very precise socio-economic group.... 1firmly believe that ifwe want to understand the message that is emerging from today's American architecture, we first need to provide a free view of the panorama." The TVBjSHS project recognized the necessity ofprovidingjust such 'a free view of the panorama' in Indian architectural studies before trying to 'understand the message' that is emerging from the architecture oflndia as a whole. There were several conceptual issues that dogged the project. Does Delhi constitute a 'region'? And ifso, what are its boundaries? We decided to focus within the political boundaries of Delhi, though we were aware of architectural developments taking place in the hinterland. We feh thatfuture studies could try to define the boundaries of the 'influence zone' of Delhi. We also hope that other regions of the country would be studied by other schools andscholars, and that through this process severai regional narratives ofarchitectural development might be broughtforth to provide a 'free view of the panorama'. Itis only after such a process that attempts might be made to develop meta-narratives to describe the synoptic 'essence' or the 'deep structure' of the contemporary . The period 1947-97, which delimited this study, was in many ways 146 A.G. KRlSHNA MENON

arbitrary, but we retained it with the view that future studies might extend the temporal boundaries. It must be admitted however, that the Golden Jubilee of India's Independence provided a convenient marker and a provocative catalyst for the project. What have we achieved in the first fifty years of our Independence? This question takes on added significance in the context ofthe impending millennium milestone: what are the prospects for the next fifty years? Having established the objectives of the study, the problem of meth­ odology remained. What criterion should be used ta select buildings for the survey and what classification system should be used to present them? To begin with, only 'known' buildings were selected covering aIl functional types (offices, hotels, institutional buildings, commercial complexes, residences, etc.) in each of the five decadal periods being studied. This information constituted the data bank. The data bank was of course open to several interpretations. In this essay 1 shall foeus on only one of the interpretations which can be construed from mapping the architecture ofDelhi: the decisive role of the state in mediating its development. This interpretation also offers a different insight into the development of the profession. For example, it is possible to argue that contrary to the cherished perceptions amongst architects regarding their intellectuai autonomy, what emerges from the study is that such perceptions are largely unfounded, and that the development of the profession has been the outcome of the demands made on it by the state. There were no Howard Roarks9 battling the 'system' in the history ofcontemporary architecture in Delhi/lndia-architects were the complicit agents of a powerful state. As in Washington DC, Canberra and Islamabad, the presence of the government in Delhi is unavoidable. These are all capital cities: prima intèr urbis and, therefore, enjoy special status not accorded to other cities in th~ couI}try. In the case of Delhi, this status confined the economic role of the city to its function as an administrative centre during the decades foIlow­ ing Independence. The economy itself was strongly state directed and investments oriented towards decentralizing development away from metropolitan centres as a broad objective. That this policy did not succeed is another story but-in the case ofDelhi-the reason for its failure is precisely because of the presence and power of the bureaucracy in a strongly state-controlled economy. The bottleneck in the decision-making process inevitably subverted the overt intent to decentralize develop­ ment and willy-nilly attracted commercial and industrial activity because businesses sought to benefit from proximity to the corridors ofpower. Thus, in spite of a strong state policy objective to decentralize development, the opposite resulted, and Delhi grew to become a diverse mega-city like any other metropolitan centre in the country, acquiring in the process the very qualities of predator-like primacy that the initial policy-makers had wished to avoid. IO This essay argues that the agency of state policy was also significant to the development of a distinct architectural culture in the city as weil. THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 147

THE 'AURA' OF DELHI With hindsight, it might be argued that the distinctive architectural culture which developed in Delhi was historicaHy inevitable. Without going into the history ofthe seven, eight, or nine Delhis-whicheverway one wants to read this complex history-it can be argued thatwhat aH these past Delhis shared in common was the 'aura' of being a capital city and for centuries this characteristic persisted. School textbooks have taught generations ofstudents that those who ruled Delhi ruled India. Each succeedingdynasty contributed to this aura through public works. Consequently, Delhi is today littered with the architectural evidence of their efforts. A recent survey conducted by INTACH recorded over 1200 extant buildings considered worth conscrving for their intrinsic heritage value.1l The modern phase in the development ofDelhi's aura began in 1912 with the buildingofthe Imperial capital ofthe British Indian Empire at Delhi. ' design for the new capital was deeply infleered with intimations ofits imperial glory (Plate 8.1). Lutyens' baroque city plan and the setting of the capital complex on invested the project with qualities of landscaped order and monumentality which were to becorne established as the hallmarks ofthe urban environment of Delhi in subsequent years; and this is largely why Delhi 'looks' different. AEter Independence, continuing the pursuitofthese urban and architectural intentions became an article of faith with the planners of Delhi. Thus the Preamble to the Master Plan for Delhi, Perspective 2001, states: Delhi, the focus ofthe socio-economic and politicallife oflndia, a symbol ofancient values and present aspirations, the Capital of the largest democracy, is assuming increasing eminence among the great cities of the world. The city of Delhi has a distinct personality. Imbibed in it, is the history of centuries, in its parts it has the grand vistas ofNew Delhi and the throbbing lanes ofShahjahanabad. It is a gem with many facets. 12 The iconic power of Lutyens' Delhi (still referred to in municipal terminology as Delhi Imperial Zone or the mz area) can be judged by the fact that it is the only urban ensemble in the city that is effectively protected against development-not Shahjahanabad (in faet, until recently it was classified as a notified sIum) or any or the earlier Delhis (though sorne are declared protected) .1~ This can perhaps be explained by the fact that Lutyens' Delhi is where the political and bureaucratic elite live and work and that they have a vested interestin protecting their privileged lifestyles (Plate 8.2). The aura ofDelhi's urban aesthetics is also expressed in other ways, such as in the attempt to keep the city 'green', and in the conceiving oflarge city­ building projects that are seldom attempted in other cities. Building on a grand scale is typical ofDelhi's architecture, and this predilection is linked to perceptions of Delhi's aura. But, curiously, the ancient monuments of Delhi themselves have not had a significant impact on the local architectural imagination. Architects in Delhi tend to refer toJaisalmer and Fatehpur Sik.r:i14 more often than they do to the local monuments ofthe Khiljis, the Tughlaks, the Lodis or Mughals, 148 A.G. KRISHNA MENON all ofwhom contributed to the aura of Delhi before the British Empire. In fact, the architecture ofBritish Imperial India appears to be more influential in the production of contemporary architecture in Delhi than the architecture ofany ofthe preceding centuries,15 although this fact is seldom acknowledged by those who write on contemporary architecture. The overwhelming reality is thatcontemporary architecture in Delhi suffers from amnesia. 'Tradition' in this context often does not seem to go further back than Delhi's most recent colonial history.

THE SEARCH FOR 'INDIANNESS' However, at the time oflndependence, there was an overt effort to erase the memoryofthe recent pastand to forge a new 'Indian' architecture by looking either further into the past or into the future. The influence of the state in determining the characteristics of the new architecture was more direct and more evident at that time. Most of the buildings were being built by govern­ ment architects for government use. To the government of a newly inde­ pendent nation establishing an 'Indian identity' became an important political and aesthetic agenda, and architects working for the government were naturally expected to infuse their works with indigenous character. Two styles of architecture emerged in response to this imperative. The two buildings that typify these styles are the Ashok Hotel (1956) and the Headquarters of the Council of Scientific and Industrial Research (CSIR) (1959). The Ashok Hotel (Plate 8.3) represents the revivalist position, where architects sought motifs from the past ta embellish buildings which were built with contemporary materials and addressed contemporary requirements. The architect of the CSIR building, on the other hand, followed the tenets of the international style, and attempted to create an indigenous version of 'Indian modernism'. The developmentofboth styles grew outofstate direction. The revivalist ideology had broad appeai amongst the intelligentsia and was supported by engineers, senior bureaucrats and politicianswho, byvirtue oftheir hierarchic superiority in decision-making could ensure that buildings reflected their tastes. 16 Thus, even if government architects had other ideas, they coùld do very littie because they were then, as indeed they still are, low-Ievel functionaries, expected to go along with their superiors' views. Naturally, architectural malapropism resulted, and this is hQw one would describe the numerous Krishi Bhawans and Vigyan Bhawans built by government architects at that time. Responding to the cali of the international style, under the circum­ stances, required enlightened patrons willing to give modernism a try. A.P. Kanvinde, who was a government architect when he designed CSIR, credits its head, Dr Shanti Swaroop Bhatnagar, for reposing faith in his 'new' architectural ideas.J7 Even here, we are faced to acknowledge the evidence ofarchitects acceding to their hierarchic superior's views.Jawaharial Nehru, for example, rejected Habib Rehman's first proposai for Rabindra Bhawan THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 149

(1961), saying thatitdid not have the spiritofTagore, though he was pleased with the final result. 18 Like Nehru, there were other ministers, bureaucrats and other hierarchically senior decision-makers who had no compunctions about imposing their tastes on hapless architects. Even today senior bureaucrats continue to 'instruct' architects because, in their view, aesthetic matters are as much their prerogative as management issues. Perhaps this imposition reflects the Indian view that 'wisdom' in aIl matters is acquired through age (or superior managerial position). It is not possible to view these architectural styles as 'theories'; theywere not. In fact, they were only reflections of the prevalent social reality. This social reality was dominated by a rationalist and interventionist approach to social and economic development under state control and this ideology got transferred to the production of architecture. The country had to be modernized quickly to 'catch up' with the West. As the modernization ideology spread, the desire to modernize in almost every aspect of state action beyond the purely economic, came to be regarded as a policy goal in itself. Developments in architecture ofthe period must be seen in this light (Plate 8.4). Architects naturally wished to modernize the country through the medium of architecture and aligned themselves with the dominant views of state policy. Thus, the state was very much the middleman in the production of architecture during this period, determining whether architects promote continuity with the past or emulate the West. In the meantime many architects went abroad (or were sent abroad on government scholarships) for training, learnt Western ways and returned to preach and practice their newly acquired faith. They had seen the future and were converted. On their return, they proselytized as only the newly converted could. Their precise affiliations to modernism differed, according to where they had acquired it: Harvard, MIT, or Liverpool or sorne other Western university where a particular brand ofmodernism was taught. They learnt the solution before they returned to understand the problem. They obviously made a 'difference' when they returned to practice at home, but their works were not the kind of reflexive architectural developments one would have expected from members of a confident profession after the attainmentoflndependence. Ifone compares this to developments in Russia after the October 1917 Revolution, for example,19 one understands the dimensions offailure that characterized such architecture. Indian architects did not revoit against the colonial order. Having always collaborated with the colonial architectural project, they had no reason to critically examine its legacy on achieving freedom. Talk ofrevivalism under the circumstances was merely self-flagellation, and the pursuitofmodernism another politically, correctstyle of-the-moment acquired by individual architects. Gunnar Myrdal, analysing the planning policies of this period attributed its ineffectiveness to the 'soft state'.20 The failure of architects to achieve their desired trans­ formative goals might equally be attributed to the fact that architecture as it developed in India after Independence, turned out to be a 'soft profession'. 150 A.G. KRISHNA MENON

UTILITARIANISM There are two other aspects of state policy as it emerged during the early years after Independence that had a bearing on subsequent developmentin architecture. One was the manner in which the role of politicians and bureaucrats got consolidated in the execution of projects (here 1 am not referring to their pervasive influence in matters of stylistic taste) and the other was the catalytic l'ole of state-imposed austerity in triggering off the development ofthe self-indulgent and flamboyant architectural styles in Delhi as a reaction. During the 1950s and 1960s, the government undertook massive develop­ ment projects in the city through the Rehabilitation Ministry and the Improvement Trust. Theil' works had to be undertaken on a war-footing and required dynamic leadership. Ministers like Mehr Chand Khanna were key figures during this phase of the city's development, and his style of working became a model for later authoritarian builder-administrators like the New Delhi Municipal Committee (NDMC) Commissioner, Chhabra, and the Delhi DevelopmentAuthority's (DDA) Vice Chairman,Jagmohan.21 The development of Delhi well into the 1980s was characterized by the 'contributions' made by such authoritarian administrators. Theil' proclivity for building-by-fiat emerges as a characteristic ofDelhi's architectural culture. Khanna established many residential colonies like and Rajinder Nagar to house refugees. He relied on enthusiastic young govern­ ment architects who, basically, learnt through doing. In those days, there was no Master Plan or precedent to follow and one can easily see how through such on-the-spot decision-making, two important characteristics of Delhi's architecture became institutionalized: one, the power ofthe politician and/ or bureaucrat to mediate building activity, and the other, the complicity of the architecl in this process. This has had long-lerm effects on the profession because it undermined the architect's worth and ethical responsibilities. The initial constraint of emergency 'triage', as il were, became axiomatic: only immediate action rather lhan systematic planning was held to be effective. Consequently, designs necessarily had to be simple for quick implementation in the field, rather than the outcome of a more complex process ofcontemplation and reflexive thinking. A pernicious idea became established: architecture as expediency, characterized by the attitude'sab chalta hai' ('anything is acceptable'). Secrecy was the best antidote to public criticism or resistance. Much ofthe government-produced architecture and urban planning of the 1950s and 1960s can be rationalized on the basis of this pernicious mindser which unfortunately has become ingrained in architectural consciousness. As far as the quality ofgovernment architecture is concerned, matters have hardly improved. Today the government is less noticeable simply because it is no more such a dominant player in the city. The second aspect ofstate policy, the constraints ofeconomic austerity, was concomitant with state planning strategy. The Soviet-inspired command economy in force did not allow for extravagances in the construction of buildings and the need to cutcosts became an important, ifnot the exclusive, THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 151 objective in the design ofbuildings. The linking ofausteritywith poor design specifications appears to have affected the architectural imagination as weil (Plates 8.5 and 8.6). Its impact on residential architecture of the period was particularlysevere. Housing ofthis period was characterized by the fiat roofs, external surfaces finished in plain plaster with cement or lime wash, with functional sunshades providing the only reliefto an otherwise bland facade. Anything else would have been 'politically incorrect'. The buildings in the government housing colonies like Bapa Nagar and Kaka Nagar are examples ofthis style (Plate 8.7). Formulaic utilitarian modernism evolved out ofthis practice and architecture reflected the same ideology that defended the virtues ofthe ubiquitous Arnbassador car in the face ofglobal technological development and change. Exceptions, such as they exist, were reactions to this regimen of austerity, and the results were invariably outlandish. In hindsight, one wonders why these constraints were not made the basis for developing more compelling architecture. And the greater tragedy is that today, in the face of the stylistic amorality spawned by post-modernism, architects look back on the products of architectural utilitarianism with nostalgia and invest those unimaginative products with an importance they do not merit. The elite-who were only a smail class in a government-dominated economy-reacted against this regimen of austerity, and their ideals were realized by the Austrian émigré, K.M. Heinz. Heinz's production of ersatz patauos and Spanish villas with icing-like decorations, pompous ducal crests, baroque mouldings, curlicued metal railings, improbable corinthian capitals and other incongruous European architectural elements obviously satisfied his elite clientele who craved for things foreign in these inward looking, austere times. Other architects followed his example (Plates 8.8 and 8.9). Thus, the ascetic ideais of Nehruvian socialism may have inadvertently and unexpectedly reinforced the allure offoreignness in architectural design, as embodied in Heinz's buildings, and were a prelude to the flamboyant architecture of the middle classes, which grew to blossom in the wake of economic liberalization in the 1980s and 1990s. Buildings in newer middle­ class colonies like Shivalik Enclave (south of Panchsheel Park) and along Vikas Marg in East Delhi are, for example, products ofthe same reactionary impulses that generated the architecture of Heinz (Plate 8.15). The exuberant, if not comic results of this peculiar form of architectural expression have been vividly captured in the writings of Gautam Bhatia, as 'Punjabi Baroque', 'Marwari Mannerism', 'Early Halwai', 'Bania Gothic' and so forth. 22

CATALITIC POLICIES OF THE STATE From the 1980s onwards, two other trends in housing have becorne evident. Again, both can be attributed to policies ofthe state. One can be generically defined as 'developer housing', replacing old stock in established residential colonies, and the other, the explosion of group housing projects on the 152 A.G. KRISHNA MENON periphery ofthe city. The monopolistic control ofland by the DDA resulted in a dramatic rise in land values, and it became attractive to replace existing individual bungalows with apartment blocks, pushing to the limits (and usuaIly, in connivance with municipal authorities, weIl beyond the limits) permissible building regulations. Citizens reacted to these blatantviolations of building norms through Public Interest Litigations, establishing prece­ dence for future consumer action in matters relating to deterioration in the quality oflife. Here too the instrumentality of the state is evident in the form ofjudicial activism in architectural matters: yet again, it was not the profession that initiated reform. As a consequence, the character and quality of life in these residential neighbourhoods are changing. Besides, the incessant building and rebuilding in sorne residential colonies are turning them into permanent building sites. Most of the new 'developer housing', ironically enough, uses the 'colonial style' in their elevations. The second trend, the development of group housing projects, is dramatically changing the skyline along the peripheryofthe city (Plate 8.10). Again, this is a direct consequence of the DDA's development strategy. Contrary to the natural market-directed tendency for the development of high-rise buildings in the centre of the city tapering to lower levels on the periphery, Delhi is currently acquiring the reverse profile of residential building heights, taking on the form of a doughnut with bungalows and very low densities at the centre, high-rise and high densities on the periphery with low-rise and medium densities in-between. This is the result of the implementation of a strong Master Plan. The dramatic growth of the city following the partition of the country necessitated undertaking ad hoc developments which created obvious infrastructural and health problems. The necessity offormulating a Master Plan to guide the further growth o~Delhi became evident and was undertaken by a team of foreign experts recruited by the Ford Foundation. The plan came into force in 1962. Their proposaI for a poly-nodal structure with segregated land uses was an imported town-planning concept which had nothing in cornmon with indigenous patterns ofurban development. Itwas as alien as Lutyens' baroque city plan.23 Consequently, its implementation over time has been characterized by non-conforming developments, which are later 'regularized'-to use planner's parlance-through the democratic political process. This is the source of the planner's bitter lament about 'political interference' but, in reality, the need to 'regularize' development is indicative ofproblems relating to the ideologyofplanners, not the political process. The inability ofplanners to comprehend and address the problems of Indian urbanism is, in fact, more tragic than the issue of political interference which is only to be expected in a healthy democracy. The problem with the planner's ideology does, however, go deeper than their predilection for imported strategies and has to do with their social ideals. Faced with a choice between a 'stable' West and a transforming East, the town-planner opts for the Western brand of equilibrium and certainty. As Edmond Leach has pointed out in a different context: THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 153

[They] tended to borrow their primary concepts from Durkheim rather than from either Pareto or Max Weber. Consequently, theyare greatly prejudiced in favour of societies which showsymptoms of'functional integration', 'social solidarity', 'cultural uniformity', 'structural equilibrium'. Such societies, which might weil be regarded as moribund by historians or political scientists, are commonly looked upon by social anthropologists as healthy and ideally fortunate. Societies which display symptoms of faction and internaI conflict leading to rapid change are on the other hand suspected of 'anomie' and 'pathological decay'.24 This accounts for the attitude of the Indian town-planner as weIl and the tragedy ofmodern Indian urban planning. IfDelhi 'looks' different on this account, then it must be seen as the profession's failure to come to terms with the imperatives ofIndian urbanism, and not its 'success'. Yet the appearance of 'success' has inspired other cities of the country to emulate the example of Delhi, thus spreading its influence far and wide. The Delhi Master Plan legitimized the acquisition of almost aIl urbanizable land within the boundaries of the city. Land consolidation was, therefore, never a problem in Delhi and permitted the construction of a number oflarge-scale projects: District Centres (, Bhikaji Cama Place (Plate 8.11), Rajendra Place, District Centre, and when they are aIl completed there will be about 27 of them in Delhi}; large public housing projects (Vasant Kunj, Kalkaji, Saket); sub-cities (Dwarka and Rohini both planned for housing over one million people); large campuses for educational institutions [the Indian Institute of Technology (Plate 8.13), Jawaharlal Nehru University, the South Campus of the University ofDelhi] , and a good distribution infrastructural facilities and amenities including neighbourhood parks, playgrounds, regional parks and 'urban forests'. Projects of such magnitude could rarely be matched or even conceived in other cities and the fact that they are commonplace in Delhi-so common that Delhi is considered 'different'-was entirely on account of the agency of the state and the imagination of the imported experts recruited by the Ford Foundation to formulate the first Master Plan for Delhi. Many ofthese large projects took the form of single commissions to architects-both government and private-who were able to explore architectural themes on a monumental scale in consonance with tha aura ofDelhi. It is important to note that many of these huge commissions were awarded by the DDAand other government agencies to private practitioners (Plate 8.14). In no uncertain terms, this enlightened policy has vastly contributed to the development of the architectural profession in Delhi. In addition to the award ofprojects related to the Master Plan, two ad hoc mega events-the 'Asia 72 exhibition' (Plate 8.12) and the ''­ have also stocked the city with memorable architectural objects by private architects. The profession responded to these massive building opportunities by producing a truly eclectic variety ofarchitecture. While sorne succumbed to the lure ofcurrentfashionable clichés, others producedworks ofenduring quality, which can be profitably examined along with the monuments ofthe past. In architectural terms, it is, ofcourse, difficult to pinpoint or attribute 154 A.G. KRISHNA MENON specific characteristics ofthe architecture ofDelhi to the fallout from these events or to the agency of the state, but in general, it can be stated that they engendered a feeling ofoptimistic self-confidence in the local architectural community and this, in turn, is reflected in their works. Observing the execution ofthese projects, other architects realized that the extraordinary, when integrated into a design plan, could indeed be accomplished. The negative attitude fostered in the 1950s and 1960s, exemplified by the practice of utilitarian modernism, began to recede, particularly under the liminal conditions surrounding the execution of the time bound projects for the mega-events. Under these conditions there were few limits to architectural intent and architects began to display greater confidence in developing innovative architectural themes. It would be interesting to see whether or not a similar development in architectural consciousness took place in other cities as weil, and ifso, whether itwas infused with the same sense ofpurpose which binds the architecture ofDelhi in the form ofa recognizable 'style'­ the 'Delhi style'. Again, it must be reiterated that it would be difficult to correlate specific elements of this 'style' to the agency of the state in any clear-eut way; but the point1 am making is that this 'style' is identifiable and is, in a general sense, infused with the aura cultivated and enabled by the state. For sorne ofthe major projects, the governmentconducted competitions to select the architect-again an enlightened practice-which also con­ tributed to the development ofarchitectural culture in the city. There have been several such competitions held in Delhi since the 1960s: the NDMC City Centre, Bhikaji Cama District Centre, Jawaharlal Nehru University Campus, Indira Gandhi National Open University, the National Gallery of Modern Art, and Kalkaji Lower Income Group Housing schemes, the Indira Gandhi Indoor Stadium and the Indira Gandhi National Centre for the Arts. Although it was the winner who generally got the spoils in terms of important commissions, these competitions benefited more generally the architects who participated or whose sketches were merely viewed in the post-eompetition exhibition of entries. These exhibitions, to sorne extent, mitigated the absence of dialogue injournals and books and contributed to the cross-fertilization ofarchitectural ideas and the develop­ ment of a particular architectural culture in Delhi. The government has also actively promoted the construction of low­ cost housing. The DDA is justly proud of its massive social housing programme for the poor and low-income segments of the population. The Housing and Urban Development Corporation (HUDCO) has focused on the development of alternative construction technologies and low-cost building materials in the projects they finance and has been able to lever a great deal ofchange. Though theirwork is spread ail over the country, these initiatives have had a significant impact on the development ofarchitecture in Delhi. A curious fact thatemerges from studying the production ofhousing in Delhi is that architects have demonstrated an impoverished mind when dealing with rich clients-mindless 'post-modern' indulgences being an THE CONTEMPORARY ARCHITECTURE OF DELHI 155

example-but a richness of spirit while dealing with poor clients-as evidenced by the low-rise, high density housing for the poor. It seems that the constraints ofpoverty are beginning to catalyse the production ofa more compelling architecture in a manner which did not take place in the 1950s, 1960s and even 1970s. Another factor in the development of the architecture of Delhi which ought to be mentioned is the role of the Delhi Urban Arts Commission (DUAC).25 Set up in 1973 by an Act ofParliament, the DUAC is generally considered little more than a 'nuisance value'. Nevertheless, it has gradually contributed to the establishment of minimum standards, which were otherwise overlooked when civic authorities approved projects based solely on their adherence to building bye-Iaws. Despite its indifferent record, the fact remains that the DUAC is an independent body established by the government to oversee the quality of architecture in Delhi, and it is some­ times able to make a positive contribution to major projects. Perhaps the architecture ofDelhi has been spared the excesses perpetrated by developers' lobbies in other cities because of this.

'THINKING THE PRESENT' In this essay 1 have focused on the role of the state in brokering the developmentofan architectural culture in Delhi. 1 have attempted to explain why Delhi 'looks' different. Ofcourse, in historic terms, any attempt to view events by taking only the last fifty years is myopically doomed and perhaps vitiates the possibility of achieving a significant or enduring perspective on the course of events. Nevertheless, 'thinking the present' remains an intriguing possibility both academically and for reflexive practice.26 There are many lessons to be learnt from such an attempt. An important one pertains to understanding the role and significance ofthe state as middleman in the development of the architecture of Delhi. What is revealed is the tragic absence of reflexive thinking in the practice of architecture. The developments ofthe last fifty years have byand large remained firmly aligned and contingent on the agency ofthe state. Unless this is targeted as a critical agenda for architectural reform, the post-Independence ideals and objectives of producing transformative architecture will not be realized, and the architecture of the next fifty years will remain grounded in the orientalist trap which in Edward Said's words is our 'uniquely punishing destiny'.27

NOTES

The photographs in this essay have been taken by the author.

1. A.C.K. Menon, The 'ContemporaryArchitecture ofDelhi: A Critical History', Proceedings of the Conference, Discontinuous Threads: Merrwry, Freedom and Architecture in Contemporary India, Mohile Parikh Centre for the Visual Arts/ Architectural Forum, National Centre for the Performing Arts, Mumbai, 10-12 December 1997. 156 A.G. KRISHNA MENûN

2. A.G.R. Menon, 'Architectural Education in India in the Time ofGlobalisation', Proceedings of the Conference FORUM Il: Architectural t'ducation for the 3rd Millennium, Gazimaguza, North Cyprus, Turkey, 22-4 April 1998. 3. A.G.R. Menon and M.N. Ashish Ganju, 'The Problem', Seminar, New Delhi, August 1974, pp. 10-13. 4. See Philippe Cadène, 'Delhi's Place in India's Urban Structure, and Véronique Dupont, 'Spatial and Demographie Growth ofDelhi and the Main Migration Flows', in this volume. 5. A.G.R. Menon, The Contemporary Architecture ofDelhi: A Critiral History, op. cit. 6. Sec, for example, Tejaswini Niranjana, P. Sudhir and Vevek Dhareshwar (eds.), lnterrogating Modernity, Culture, arul Colonia/ism in lndia, Calcutta: Seagul Books, 1993. 7. See, for example, Gulammohammed Sheikh (ed.), Contemporary Art in Baroda, New Delhi: Tulika, 1997. 8. Ralph Maneo, Introduction, in Thinking the Present, Recent American Architecture, R. Michael Hays and Carol Burns (eds.), New York: Princeton Architectural Press, 1990, pp. 4-5. 9. Howard Roark waS the fiercely independent-minded architect-hero in Ayn Rands' cult novel, TheFountainhead. Generations of students of architecture have fed on this lore and vicariously constructed their future careers in a similar mould. What is starkly cvident in the Indian scene is the poignant contrast between fact and fICtion. 10. A.G.R. Menon, 'Imagining the Indian City', Proceedings of the Conference, Theatres of Decolonisation, Chandigarh. 6-10January 1995, and Economie arul Po/itical Weekly, Mumbai, vol. XXXII, no. 46, 15 November 1997, pp. 2932-6. II. Source: Indian National Trust for Art and Cultural Heritage, New Delhi. 12. Master Plan for Delhi, Perspective 2001,.Delhi DevelopmentAuthority, Vikas Sadan, New Delhi, August 1990, p. 1. 13. For conservation policies in Delhi, see Narayani Gupta in this volume. 14. Raj Rewal, 'The Use of Tradition in Architecture and Urban Form', in Farooq Ameen (ed.), Contemporary Architecture arul City Form, The South Asian Paradigm, Mumbai: Marg Publications, 1997, pp. 52-63. 15. G.H.R. Tillotson. The Traditions of lndian ArchiLecture, Continuity, Controversy arul Change since 1850, New Delhi: OUP, 1989. 16. .Ion Lang, Madhavi Desai and Micki Desai, Architeclure and Independence, The Search for ldentiLy-lrulia 1880 to 1980, New Delhi: OUP, 1997. 17. In personal discu;sions with Author. 18. PatwantSingh, 'Rabindra Bhawan', reprinted in Architecture +Design, vol. XIll, no. 2, March­ April 1996, p. 32. 19. Kenneth Powell, 'Modernism Divided', in Catherine Cooke and Justine Ageros (eds.), The Avant-Garde Russian Architecture ofthe Twenties, London: Academy Editions, 1991. 20. Gunnar Myrdal, Asian Drama, An Inquiry into the Poverty ofNations, New York: Pantheon, 1968, pp. 895-900. 21. See Emma Tarlo and Narayani Gupta, this volume. 22. Gautam Bhatia, Punjabi &roque arul Other Memones of Architecture, New Delhi: Penguin, 1995. 23. A.G.R. Menon, Imagining the lndian City, op. cil. 24. E.R. Leach, 'Political Systems ofHighland Burma', in M.N. Srinivas, Social Change in Modern lrulia. New Delhi: Orient Longman, 1972, p. 160. 25. See Narayani Gupta, this volume. 26. Michael Hays and Carol Burns, Thinking the Present, Recent American Architecture, op. cit. 27. Edward Said, Orientalism, New York: Vintage Books, 1979. See particularly the Introduction. Plate S.l The aura of Delhi: the Capital Complcx.

Plate S.2 The aura of Delhi: the wide tree-lined avenues in Lutyens' bungûow zone. Plate 8.3 The Revivalists: Ashoka Hotel. (Architect: B.E. Doctor)

Plate 8.4 The Modernists: the WHO building. (Architect: Habib Rehman) Plate 8.5 Utilitarian modernism: the School ofPlanning and Architecture. (Architect: T.J. Manickam)

Plate 8.6 Utilitarian modernism: the AGCR building. (Architects: The CPWD) Plate 8.7 Gavernment hausing in the 1950s: Bapa Nagar.

Plate 8.8 The reaction ta utilitarian madernism: an upper-c1ass hause in Panchsheel Park. Plate 8.9 The reaction ta utilitarian modernism: an upper-class house in .

Plate 8.10 The self-finance housing scheme at Saket. (Architect: Kuldip Singh) Plate 8.11 The mega projects emerging out of the implementation of the Master Plan of Delhi-1962: the BhikaJi Cama Place District Centre. (Architect: Raj Rewal)

...

Plate 8.12 The mega projects of the 1970s: Exhibition paviIions for the Trade Fair Authority of India provided the opponunity for experimentation. The entrance ta the Hall of Nations. (Architect: Raj Rewal) Plate 8.13 Major institutional complexes: the Indian Institute of Technology, Delhi. (Architect:J.K Choudhary)

Plate 8.14 The mega projects of the 1980s: the SCOPE Complex. (Architect: Raj Rewal) Plate 8.15 The poSt liberalization architecture of the 1990s. Ploued row­ housing in Shivalik Enclave. 9

Concern, Indifference, Controversy: Reflections on Fifty Years of 'Conservation' in Delhi

NARAYANI GUPTA

Conservation of the built heritage has been an official coneern in India since the creation ofthe Archaeological Deparunentin 1861, and a popular coneern since the 1970s. Delhi is unique in being at onee a national capital and the city with the fastest growing demographic rate over the past half eentury, while at the same time, including in its area over 150 'monuments' 'protected' by the Archaeological Survey oflndia. The presentmap ofDelhi is one ofinterlocking landscapes from different points of time. Delhi, with a continuous history from the twelfth eentury, is used to being a capital (and therefore a refuge) and to being praised as beautiful (and therefore both coveted and invaded). Having lived in Delhi almost continuously during the past fifty years, 1have seen how not only the landscape, but also the perceptions of the citizens, officiaIs, architects and 'environmentalists' have changed. Over these last fifty years, the priees of land in different parts of Delhi have increased in quantum terms. Those who want to ensure that 'protected monuments' should not only be kept in good condition but should also have room to breathe, and that many other buildings and areas should be classified as 'heritage' and protected against demolition or modification, are in a minority. This essay will explore how in the past fifty years, the rulers ofDelhi have cherished, desecrated or ignored the three main components of the city's past-pre-Mughal Delhi, Shahjahanabad and British Delhi. But first a briefoverview.

THE NINTH DELHI ln 1947,just before Independenee, Delhi had interlocking landscapes, but thesewere differentfrom the presentconfiguration. Elements ofpre-Mughal Delhi are chiefly coneentrated in the South, and at that time they were like islands in a sea of fields, hills and jhils (shallow tanks). Mughal Delhi by contrast was clearly recognizable by its road-and-Iane network and its dense habitation. British New Delhi, on the other hand, was a quiet enclave, sparsely 158 NARAYANI GUPTA populated-verybeautiful in winter-with formaI gardens, a high water-table, and very little traffic on its wide roads. The large area to the south-west was autonomous and had little interaction with the rest of the city. The echoing empty monuments (Plate 9.1), the stretches of rocky uncultivable land, the open areas west ofthe Ridge and east ofthe Yamuna, the houses in Mehrauli and in Shahjahanabad which had been hastilyvacated by Muslim families who migrated to Pakistan at the time of partition, were an open invitation to the hundreds of thousands who continuously arrived in Delhi through the sad and frightening months of 1947 and 1948. These 'refugees' did not see themselves as refugees, but as individuals who had opted to become citizens of a new India, who had made the choice under desperate conditions at the price of being uprooted from their homes in what had become Pakistan. Their numbers and sheer visibility led to their being given whatever shelter could be mustered, and being permitted to occupy the homes of'evacuees'. Delhiwas retained as the capital. This meant thatthe number ofgovernmentoffices increased, and these had a multiplying effect, encouraging a further in-migration ofpeople promised or hoping to getjobs. Government departments, research institutes and universities, it was assumed, would provide 'housing' and this puta lot ofpressure on land.) A third stream of migrants was the rural poor, who hoped to find or create work for themselves in the expanding city, and were prepared to take the risk of'squatting' on public land and buildingtheir own cheap shanty townS. This three-fold 'colonization' of Delhi was checked by the shock of a major cholera epidemic in 1955. To prevent things getting out of hand, a supreme land controller was created for Delhi in 1957 in the form of the Delhi DevelopmentAuthority (DDA). For the next thirty years Delhi's map was drawn by the DDA, which had to contend with older land-eontrollers, one ofwhich was the Archaeological S~rvey ofIndia (ASI). More powerful than the ASI as land-eontrollers were the New Delhi Municipal Committee which administered Lutyens' New Delhi, the Cantonment Board, the Municipal Corporation ofDelhi and the villages near the urban areas, which numbered over a hundred and were mostly located south of New Delhi. This rural area was what the DDA planned to 'urbanize' and divided into 'zones'-residential, commercial, and institutional. A c1ever move led to a large swathe of farmland in South Delhi (where many monuments were located) being transferred from villages to private agencies as freehold. This land was enc1aved in the vast area designated by the DDA for disposaI in the form ofinstalments on long leases. The abadi (inhabited) areas ofthe villages themselves were not to be touched and these became defined as 'urban villages'. Many ofthem had monuments in their midst. The villagers rejoiced at the windfall of 'compensation money' from the DDA. Unused to such wealth, their instinct was to spend rather than investit, and once itwas gone, they had to turn to other means oflivelihood-salariedjobs, setting up shops, selling skilled services, or taking in tenants. Lacking playgrounds and basic civic amenities in their villages, many chose to use the premises of the CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 159 monuments, which were perfunctorily policed. Their attitude to the old buildings themselves was characterized mainly by indifference. As they watched new neighbouring housing estates spring up, usually with their backs to existing villages, the villagers saw the new as desirable and the crumbling ruins of their monuments as not worthy of care, much less pride. As for the inhabitants ofthe new 'colonies', theywere quite oblivious ofthe geography of the adjacent villages, and not interested in the monuments (Plate 9.2). This poverty of interest is partly cultural, partly generational. In 1943, Percival Spear had published his Delhi-Its History and Its MonumentS- which was used in schools where, until1958, students had to answer a compulsory question on Delhi's monuments. This meant that students born in the 1930s and 1940s had at least sorne acquaintance with the town's historie architecture. But things were different from the 1950s. The newcomers' lack offamiliarity with Delhi's landmarks, the irrelevance ofhistoric architecture to people building their lives afresh; the habit of associating monuments with rather shabby villages, the inhabitants ofwhich had a different lifestyle from that of the urban dwellers-all these meant an alienation from the monuments. This could have been remedied if students of history and architecture could have been encouraged to take an interest in them but, unfortunately, 'art and architecture' was taught very perfunctorily even at university level, where the nationalist movement and economic history were considered the new frontiers. Professor Mujeeb3 is remembered affectionately for his readiness to accompany students of the college and the school on field trips, and his generosityin sharing his enthusiasm and knowledge about Delhi's architectural pasl. AlI the standard histories of Indian architecture, such as Fergusson's History ofIndia and Eastern Architecture, Percy Brown's Indian Architecture and the Cambridge History ofIndia,4 have copious descriptions ofDelhi's medieval buildings but 'architectural history' as an area ofresearch did not have any takers in India. By contrast, scholars from other countries showed an interest in il. The most comprehensive work on the Sultanate architecture ofDelhi (1192-1526) was that of Professors Yamamoto and Matsuo Ara, written in the 1960s and 1970s.5 Anthony Welch of Canada, Ebba Koch of Austria, Catherine Asher of the USA and Attilio Petruccioli of ltaly were other weIl known modern scholars who worked, inter alia, on Delhi. The .School of Planning and Architecture, set up in 1955, did have a sketchy course on the history ofarchitecture, but this was weighted heavily in favour ofEuropean architecture. Figures like le Corbusier and Frank Lloyd Wright were held up as idols for the new generation of aspiring Indian architects, and styles of medieval or 'colonial' architecture were considered oflittle interest. One of the earliest directors of the School of Architecture, ]habwala, eventually compiled his charcoal drawings of Delhi monuments into a book,6 but by and large students of architecture did not develop any enduring sense of affinity with the distant pasl. The same is true with the recent pasto In the 1950s and 1960s, when the extensions and infill to Lutyens' city were being built, his own architecture, admired in his lifetime, was seen as an 160 NARAYANI GUPTA

embarrassing piece of imperialist baggage. It certainly was not seen as 'heritage'. Jawaharlal Nehru's influence on independent India's architecture was considerable. His widely-read Discovery ofIndia (published in 1946) endorsed the received idea of 'Indian architecture' being either 'Hindu' or 'Muslim'; British/European colonial architecture was not worthy of attention. It is therefore hardly surprising that the Act of Parliament in 1958 which confirmed the powers and functions of the ASI also did not consider such buildings worthy of 'protection'.7 It was ten years later that Sten Nilsson published his pioneering work, European Architecture in India,B which took the story up to 1850. After the SecondWorld War the European countries whose irreparable losses in terms of architectural properties led them to adopt policies of conservation and restoration, als.o found the simple unfussy lines of modernist architecture convenientfor their gigantic rebuilding and housing projects. India, propelled by Nehru and its first generation of USA-trained Indian architects, took a flying leap into modernist styles. 9 Gordon Cullen was invited to Delhi to make proposaIs for 'modern' buildings to mask or modify the scale and style of Lutyens' work. lO This was reminiscent of how less than forty years earlier Lutyens had tried to integrate Delhi's medieval architectural masterpieces into his baroque city. JI As for Shahjahanabad, the Red Fort and theJama Masjid, theywere conventionally considered worth visiting, but the narrow g;ulis (lanes) and palpable congestion were plainly considered an embarrassment to Nehru. He endorsed the label of'notified sIum' that the DDA's Master Plan12 used for Shahjahanabad. The grey area between the Mughal and British capital, where Gandhiji had proposed the establishment ofa village ofkhadi (handloom) weavers,13 and where Gordon Cullen had visualized multi-storeyed shops and plazas, was transformed, with Nehru's approval, into a narrow elongated site for public meetings, setagainst a new 'wall' of three-storeyed 'commercial 1:?locks' facing New Delhi and screening Shaltiahanabad. The mental as well as physical distance between the 'imperial city' and the indigenous 'sIum' increased, and Dilliwallas did not see either as 'heritage'.

'CONSERVATION' OR 'DEVELOPMENT'? We said at the outset that conservation ofthe built heritage became a popular concern in the 1980s. To understand how this concern developed, we have to move back to the 1970s and examine changing perceptions of the three categories of architecture mentioned-pre-Mughal buildings, the town of Shahjahanabad, and Lutyens' New Delhi. One important factor in changing attitudes was that those who had seen the completion of the building of New Delhi and those others who had borne the brunt of Partition had, by the 1970s, reached middle age. The desperation and uncertainties of the 1940s were over, and Delhi had a new and recognizable form-composed of a prosperous West Delhi built by the newcomers after 1947, a spacious South Delhi with large official houses and private homes, the pleasant Civil Unes CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 161 and the complex to the north, an increasingly commercial Shahjahanabad and ofcourse Lutyens' New Delhi occupying the centre. More and more people from other parts of India were opting to live permanently in Delhi. This would eventually lead in the 1980s to the expansion of 'cooperative housing' further north and east of the Yamuna, and the spillover into Haryana, from the 1980s. But in the 1970s people did not know this. It seerned, as in the USA in 1892, that the 'frontier' had 'ended' and that Delhi had taken on a stable form. When frontiers end, conservation begins. Again, the US parallel is instructive. Judging by newspaper articles from the 1970s there was a new interest in Delhi's architectural history, and in interpreting heritage. There was also a counter­ current of opinion encouraged by those who felt that the medieval ruins were occupying too much valuable real estate, that the housing stock of Shahjahanabad should be destroyed and replaced by multi-storeyed flats and that Lutyens' wasteful 'garden city' should be redesigned to increase its density. Conflicting opinions resulted in a feud-largely verbal-between 'conservationists' and 'developers'. Divisions and subdivisions within these broad categories were complex: architects were not ail on one side and citizens were divided through their support ofdifferent combinations. Should the aim be to conserve 'protected' buildings, but let Shahjahanabad be modernized or retain the 'period' ambience ofShahjahanabad, and let the imperial British capital be modernized? Ideally, one would like to be able to present a Conservation Master Plan for the whole city. But such a map has never been prepared. Therefore, at the risk of oversimplification, the following analysis has been divided into three topographical sections.

THE MAGNIFICENT RUINS As early as the sixteenth century, Delhi, particularlysouth Delhi, was perceived as a landscape ofmausolea, masjid, secular buildings and forts. 14 Interspersed with these were shrines-in particular those of Bakhtiyar Kaki (thirteenth century), HazratNizamuddin and Roshan Chiragh-e Dehli (both fourteenth century) which have continuously drawn crowds ofpilgrims. AlI three were architecturally interesting, but they were more significant as magnetic poles which attracted people and prompted them to build tombs and mausolea near them. The ASI, fortified by powers given in the 1904 Act, and encouraged by the added incentive ofDelhi being selected as the capital of British India in 1912, was, in the first thirty years of the 1900s, extremely active in 'listing' ancient buildings,15 clearing them ofillegal occupants, and landscaping the surrounding areas. Sorne 160 structures (including over a dozen small ones located on the northern Ridge associated with the 1857 uprising) were labelled 'Grade A' and 'protected' by the central AS!. By the 1960s, all the old guidebooks to Delhi were out ofprint. An ASI official, YD. Sharma, was asked to write a new one for the Orientalists' Conference in 1964. Definitive though it is, it is a great pitYthat it has only been rnarketed through the very few outlets of the ASI.l6 The ASI was achieving great things in Afghanistan and Cambodia, while 162 NARAYANI GUPTA

its own backyard in Delhi was sinking under the weight ofindifference and encroachments as weil as the excessive burden on the central offices of the ASI which lacked the support ofastate department. Such a department was set up in the 1970s, but instead of'acquiring' 'Grade B' monuments, its role as custodian was limited to the 1857 sites, which the ASI offloaded on to il. The ASI was not very active in signposting 'protected' monuments so most ofthem became anonymous. As for the 'Grade B' structures, which elsewhere in India have been taken over for 'protection' by the state departrnents of arch; eology, in Delhi these remain vulnerable, even today, because-for political reasons--Delhi still does not have astate departrnent with the power to 'acquire' them. 'The casualty list of the well-known monuments is long', stated an article in Design in April 1973. 'The extensive airforce installations now abidingwithin yards ofthe ruins ofTughlakabad; the IndiaInternational Centre and the Ford Foundation buildings within the precincts [sic] of the Lodi Tombs; a permanent fair site next to the ; the Abdun Nabi Mosque on Marg now squashed between a pedestrian overbridge and the ... Delhi Administration's skyscraper... .' The , designed by M.M. Rana, deserves attention for its design, which is sympathetic to the adjoining Tughlaq shikar-kiosk. Till the 1950s most monuments were picturesque picnic-spots, set in open fields. As the DDA auctioned off more and more farmland for the development of new neighbourhoods, the village abadis and the monuments they contained became hemmed in; monuments scattered in the surrounding fields were also enclaved. The ASI realized too late that it had not fenced off areas to give breathing room. In the absence of this, it did not have a viable case for demanding that such land be left free from 'development'. Where monuments were enclosed bywalls--Safdarjang's and Humayun's mausolea, for example-they sought to keep 10 yd. around them free ofconstruction. But even this was difficult to ensure. Masjid Moth, an exquisite Lodi mosque is an example of a monument which has suffered from the absence of boundaries. Ignorance, indifference, obfuscation and collusion, all helped those whose greed for land in Delhi has been satisfied at the expense of Delhi's priceless heritage. In the 1980s, the two opposing forces-the pressure on land, and the moves to defend monuments--suddenly gathered strength. In 1974 the unchecked building ofmulti-storey tower blocks in New Delhi had prompted the Prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, to establish, byan Act ofParliament, the Delhi Urban Art Commission (DUAC) which would monitor proposed additions to the city's landscape, built or natural. In 1982, the DUAC commissioned the School of Planning and Architecture to make a study of sorne 'protected' monuments and of the Ridge and the Yamuna. Later that year, an Environment Group was set up by Ms Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya at the India International Centre. It had an active 'Monuments Sub-Group' which, in 1985, became the Conservation Society of Delhi (CSD). The CSD set itself the agenda of acting as the unofficial guardian of Delhi's historie architecture and as a pressure-group. Its erratic newsletter was called Prahari CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 163

(watchman). Newspapers were quick to comment on or to report comments on 'neglected monuments', which became a frequently used term. A further refinement, aired at seminars, was the criticism of the unimaginative way in which the ASI had designed the open areas around monuments. The British formula of lawns and palm fringed avenues, which did not conform to the original Mughal gardens, had been supplemented bya standard formula of bougainvillaea and casuarinas, both colonial imports and considered equally 'un-authentic'. The DDAand the Municipal Corporation were also criticized for laying out parks near the monuments butexc1uding the actual monument grounds (as atVijay MandaI andJamali Kamali) creating the curious effect of carefully-manicured parks adjacent to areas of unkempt wilderness, the former being indicative of the resources of the DDA and the latter of the poverty of the AS!. The CSD made specifie suggestions about numerous monuments and prepared slide-shows which were screened at educational institutions and for citizens' groups. The enthusiasm of the Conservation Societywas considerable, given the small number ofactive members. Looking back, one can see the decade from 1982 as perhaps the most significant for raising the level ofpublic awareness and a sense oflocal pride, and for making the ASI realize that it was not so much a proprietor of extensive properties as a custodian of heritage, and therefore accountable to the people. It has to be admitted, however, that the CSD's suggestions were carried out only to a very limited degree. One reason was the obverse side of the new awareness. Monuments now began to be exploited as useful adjuncts to the marketing ofspecifie products. Anotherwas the exploitation ofthe 'urban villages' which were exempt from the building bye-Iaws controlling the rest . of the city. There was a great increase in the number of people living in these villages, without a corresponding expansion ofinfrastructure. For the desperately needed open spaces, villagers turned to the monuments. The resultant degradation of the surroundings and sometimes also the interiors discouraged people from visiting manyofthem or walking through them, as they do in Lodi Garden. A snobbish upper middle-class Delhi started distancing itselffrom its past and from 'rural' pockets within the city. At the same time, the very shabbiness, the disconcerting coexistence ofworld-class architecture and rubbish dumps came to acquire a new attraction. This has been reinforced by the publication ofevocative photographs and illustrated books. 17 Words like 'ethnie' became popular, as did perceptions of'villagers' as 'simple' and 'unspoiled'. The monuments began to be used as backdrops for commercial propaganda; the villages as milieus for 'happenings', for 'boutiques' and restaurants serving 'ethnie' food. 'Site chosen by Alauddin Khilji/ Restaurant established by X' proc1aims a poster near Hauz Khas Village, which has come to serve as a cautionary tale ofvillagers and boutique­ owners both trying to take advantage of each other while the nearby monuments get increasingly marginalized18 (Plate 9.3). The web of issues involved is often highly complexwith politicians taking their eut and official agencies making partisan interventions. Itis not difficult to distinguish 'real' champions of heritage from 'fake' ones, disinterested agitators from 164 NARAYANI GUPTA predators, but the latter are usually more powerfui. They can be checked only with media support or by legal irtiunction, which caUs for alertness, good timing and the sacrifice of time. One instance when the CSD did succeed was when it stopped the owner of a sixteenth century tomb demolishing it in order to build a block offlats. Thiswas achieved by a prompt legal injunction with the cooperation of the AS!. But in another instance­ the demoIition of the Tehsil of Bahadur Shah'Zafar' at Mehrauli-the CSD did not learn about it early enough to staIl il. In a city getting steadily more congested and poUuted, the monuments of a distant past could offer the promise of green areas and tranquiIIity. If the endless discussions (many ofwhich go over weII-trodden ground) about methods of conservation and the restoration of gardens, water-bodies and waterways could be translated into time-bound projects, we would win the gratitude of generations to come. At the same time, we need to ensure a quaIity of permanence, adopting the philosophy of the Mughal rulers who planted shade-giving trees in spite of the fact that they were slow-growing, rather than the policy of contemporary agencies who in recent years have planted useless eucalyptus trees and the not always appropriate casuarina, simply because they are fast-growing. There is room for cautious optimism: students ofarchitecture have become more sensitive to historie architecture in the past fifteen years; the DDA has, for the first time in its revised Master Plan (Delhi 2001) made token references to 'Conservation Areas' (in 1995); two monuments in Delhi-the Qutb Minar and the mausoleum of Humayun-have been designated as World Heritage sites. While it is sadly true that one-third of the early medieval (twelfth to sixteenth century) buildings photographed by ProfessorAra in the late 1960s have'disappeared', those that remain are the more substantial ones and are unIikely to be demolished. The chief 'danger' is of a different order-vandalism in the name of gentrification, ruins being smartened up in a superficial manner. For sorne years in the 1970s a person ofvision, Kamaladevi Chattopadhyaya, encouraged the use of the Mughal palace, in MehrauIi, as a workshop for craft persons. In an excess ofzeal, the ASI asked them to vacate the building. Today, the Mahal is bare and desolate, often locked. Admittedly, a thin line separates 'use' from 'misuse'. Butit may be better to ensure careful and appropriate use rather than simply leaving buildings empty. The laughter of children diving into Ugrasen's baoli (stepweII) or the quiet voices of participants at a caIIigraphy workshop in Khirki Masjid are infinitely preferable to echoing silences.

SHAHJAHANABAD: HERITAGE CITYOR SLUM? Shahjahanabad has been designated a 'Conservation Area' by the DDA in its report: Delhi 2001. 19 This belated gesture has come after fortyyears (1945­ 85) of 'damage' of various kinds. The most serious of these was its being labeIIed a 'sium' in 1962, and being dumped under the same administrative department as shanty towns and 'unauthorized colonies'. Since the 1930s CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 165

there have been proposaIs to 'decongest' the crowded south-western sections ofthe city. In the 1950s, this became difficult because ofthe construction of Asaf Ali Road, which was built in alignment with the former city wall. In 1975,Jagmohan,Vice-Chairman ofthe DDA, published his book, Rebuilding Shahjahanahad, 20 which repeated the suggestions ofthe 1930s, adding a gloss of nostalgia and suggesting it was possible to recover the ambience of the Mughal city. This idea had been evoked in 1973 by Maheshwar Dayal, who belonged to an old Delhi family. He hadwritten a series ofnewspaper articles, which were later published as a book, RediscoveringDelhi, also in 1975. 21 But in the previous two decades much of this ambience had already been destroyed as the old havelis (mansions) were partitioned between large numbers of families, gulis (lanes) choked with modern vehicles and the avenue of narrowed by shop verandas and disfigured by hoardings and streamers (Plate 9.4). Ayear afterJagmohan's book was published, he had the opportunity to begin trying to put the plan into action. With the callousness that many Qfficials found so easy to assume during the Emergency, many houses near Turkman Gate, in south-western Shahjahanabad, were bulldozed in spite of the horrified resistance oftheir owners. 22 This was part ofa larger campaign to make Delhi free of 'sIums', the inhabitants ofwhich were sent to distant 'resetùement colonies' .23 The area around the Jama Masjid was cleared of shops and redesigned as parks and walkways at various times. In 1980, Max Mueller Bhawan worked with the School of Planning and Architecture to conduct a seminar on urban renewal in Shahjahanabad.24 The fundamental issue concerning this Mughal citywaswhether conservation was for or against the local people. Another political factor in this locality is the involvement of the Imam oftheJama Masjid who sees the area around the mosque as being under his authority. One recent occasion when this caused controversy was in 1994-5 when he ordered the construction of a structure for ablution purposes (a wuzu-khana) near the southern entrance, pleading that the tank in the courtyard was inadequate on days when the congregation was very large. The CSD and the DUAC (which at that time had two CSD members on its board) were successful in persuading the courts that this newstructure should be demolished. The hesitant attitude ofthe ASI (in view of the fact that the masjid's maintenance is their responsibility, though its custodians are the WaqfBoard) and the DDA (since Sha~ahanabadfaIls under the purviewof their 'SIum Board') suggested that in any prolonged conflict of interests, the Imam would be unlikely to lose and might actually gain. For officiaIs to take a firm stand, theywould need to show commiunent, which would mean not being diverted by the numerous other (more important) claims on their time. This example served to highlight the significant role that could be played by an alert 'conservation' lobby. It also showed that the local inhabitants' barkwas far more impressive than their bite; while theyendorsed the cause ofbeautiful architecture with enthusiasm, they were notwilling to fight for it. What is disturbing is that the Jama Masjid, one of the finest 166 NARAYANI GUPTA examples of in India, is getting increasingly hemmed in by shops and barriers. The gardens and walkways laid out on the east side are not connected to the mosque, and sorne are even kept locked on the grounds that they would be vandalized if left open. The inhabitants ofGreater Delhi who were preoccupied with their 'plots' and flats, with setbacks and service-Ianes, hedges and flower beds, with a yearning for the perfect 'government quarters', had little interest in the compact homes of Shahjahanabad. But the glamorization, particularly in cinema, of the Mughal/, costume, music (ghazal) and etiquette, has now extended to habitat. A new interest in glllis was followed by an interest in havelis. 25 Popular books26 made an important contribution to this trend-as they did with 'urban villages'. Scholarly interest having been, at best, sporadic, has now become almost constant as students of architecture are encouraged to study the layout ofgulis and kuchas (cul-de­ sacs), and houses (Plate 9.5). During the forty years following Independence most ofthe havelis had been destroyed by being partitioned, their courtyards roofed and extra floors built. Those that survived in recognizable form did so usually because their owners preferred to be poor and proud. The Indian National Trustfor Artistic and Cultural Heritage (INTACH), formed in 1984, launched a programme to list 'heritage buildings'. The Delhi list (begun in 1985, and completed, after a stop-go history, in 1997) includes many havelis but also suggests that area conservation is as important as that of individual buildings (Plate 9.6). Parallel to this has been the rapid conversion of old buildings for commercial use. If the second generation of Greater Delhi residents became sentimental about gulis and havelis, their contemporaries in Shahjahanabad, are by contrast disenchanted with their crowded city and, given the opportunity, a majority of them would choose to migrate to the more 'open' neighbourhoods beyond. Any effective conservation plan will, therefore, need intelligent and sensitive coordination between the needs of local inhabitants, the opportunities for tourism and the demands of commerce. Facades, street furniture and traffic lanes, need to be blended into a pleasing yet workable whole. Sometimes one has the impression that Shahjahanabad is becoming increasingly schizophrenie, with its attraction to tourists on the one hand and to the promoters of commerce on the other. In an unplanned hut intuitively balanced fashion, it seems to save itselffrom ruination. Its vitality makes nonsense of the planners' talk of 'revitalizing' it, and those who frequent it could be surprised to learn that another old city, Venice, begs its visitors to view it in silence! The Mughal citadel (the Red Fort) has, in the 1990s, become a subject ofstudy for students and senior architects seeking to understand what it was like before much ofilwas wantonly destroyed after 1857,27 and try to identify parts of it which might be 'restored'. The conservation versus restoration arguments can be seen at their best here. One example is the barracks built by the British army after 1857. In the 1980s it was unanimously agreed that these barracks which pierce the skyline incongruouslyshould be demolished CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 167

as soon as possible (in 1981, Parliament ordered the army to vacate the fort). However in the 1990s tables turned as sorne architects argued for retaining the barracks as classic exampies ofBritish military architecture! Another feature unique to the Red Fort is that it has become imbued with a host of patriotic symbols. These are celebrated daily in the Son-et­ Lumière programme, annuallywhen the Prime Minister unfurls the national flag from its ramparts on , and are conveyed implicitly through the museum's celebration of the nationalist movement and in the museumification of the barracks in Salimgarh where the prisoners were incarcerated in 1945. The fort is increasingly becoming a shell to house symbols of the nationalist movement. The impact on the 10,000 people who visit it daily can weil be imagined. In contrast to the detailed interpretation offered by the museums ofthe 'Freedom Movement', there is almost no explanation of the gardens, chambers and museum of the Mughals which are only minimally signposted and not explained, thus giving free rein to the imagination of the so-called 'guides'. The fort could potentially be agreat source ofincome, which could then be spenton making it spectacularly beautiful. But this will not happen as long as the tourism agencies are content with the money they earn from the Son-et-Lumière show, the ASI continues to make a virtue ofnot being 'money-minded', the army refuses to vacate the fort (though it did give part of Salimgarh to the ASI in 1995) and INTACH thinks its job is done once it has produced its elegant reports. Even while these reports were being written, the Municipal Corporation of Delhi was going ahead with its plans to widen the road east of the fort, which serves as a major national highway, oblivious to the long­ term damage which trucks cause as they thunder past the fort walls at a distance ofa few yards, simultaneously polluting Shahjahan's marble pavilion with diesel fumes. As far as the people ofDelhi are concerned, they remain satisfied with things as they are. Unless made aware ofwhat could be done to present the fort as architectural heritage, they will not be able to demand anything different. The integration of the Red Fort,jama Masjid, gulis and havelis into the organic city itonce was remains a distant dream, butresearch and discussions that have been going on over the past fifteen years have at least brought it within the realm of the desirable. Even this had been impossible before the 1980s.

LUTYENS GETS HIS DUE Lutyens' capital would have been subject to the same pressures ofreal estate as the two areas discussed earlier, were it not for the restraints exercised by the New Delhi Municipal Committee, a nominated body controlled by the central government. It is an ùea overlaid with nationalist political connotations. Reactions to this defiantly baroque city have been mixed from the time ofits inception. After 1947, despite Gandhiji's suggestion that the Viceroy's Palace be transformed into a hospital and the President live in a 168 NARAYANI GUPTA bungalow, Nehru successfully argued for the necessity ofgrandeur which he thought appropriate to a great, albeit young, country. According to this logic, it made good sense to recycle the British buildings, and to use Kingsway/ Rajpath for processions. In the 1950s, Gordon Cullen was invited to make suggestions for further architectural development in Delhi. His book, The NinthDelhi, daringly proposed high-rise buildings at the base ofRaisina Hill, near Parliament House, and in the area between Lutyens' New Delhi and Shahjahanabad. Another area which many architects and planners wished to 'redevelop' was the 'bungalow zone'. But the low-rise houses which made Delhi one of the greenest cities in the world, were coveted by senior officiais and ministers. Ironically, it was this that helped retain the verdant quality of the 996 acres of Lutyens' New Delhi. In 1973, the Design Group had accurately projected a population of ten million for Delhi by the end of the century which, they felt, justified a fourfold densification of the 'bungalow area'. There was strong protestfrom Patwant Singh who, through hisjournal Design (1957-87) consistently pleaded for a regard to aesthetics as weil as 'development' and who had, as early as 1971, suggested a City Commission on Art similar to those in historic towns in Europe. 'We are under no illusions about the resistance which would be put up against this idea by those civic and other bodieswho would see in it a possible threat to their own sovereignty.· Yet, in reality it would be threatening nobody's sovereignty, but would be safeguarding the interests of the city which, ideally speaking, every citizen should have at heart.'2H Itwas his insistence, and in particular his objection to the skyscrapers near ConnaughtPlace, that led Indira Gandhi to persuade Parliament to institute the Delhi Urban Art Commission in 1974. Though sections ofLutyens' city have been disfigured by plotwise 'developmel).t' (read 'high-rise buildings'), large areas still retain their original quality. The round­ abouts, which had at one point of time been suggested as suitable for commercial development ('Another Connaught Place at Windsor Place!') have become emerald islands, which in winter bloom riotously with flowers in il friendly spirit of competition. The danger of 'development' seems to have been staved off, with young architects ready to admire Lutyens' skill as a town-designer who worked on a human scale. Around 1980 the architecture of Lutyens, like that of earlier 'Indo­ Saracenists,' came to be regarded as 'good', and no longer as kitsch. That year, an exhibition on New Delhi by the School of Planning was very weil received,29 as was Robert Irving's book on the building of New Delhi, published one year later. 3o When the Penguin Guide to Indian Monuments, Volume Two (Islarnic, andEUTOpean) was published, it had a generous 3 section on Lutyens. ! Controversy has periodically bubbled over the question ofwhich symbols should be highlighted on the Central Vista. lconoclasm in free India has targeted not buildings but statues of the 'men who ruled'. As the busts and figures of preceding sovereigns and viceroys were removed, there was a clamour for replacing them with statues of Indian leaders. One instance where this caused remarkable controversywas after the removal, in 1968, of the statue of from the cupola on Rajpath where it had stood for CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 169 thirty years. The empty cupola seemed to demand an occupant, and the obvious person to be commemorated was (Plate 9.7). However, he himself had always been resolutely opposed to the practice of naming roads and installing statues to immortalize leaders. Furthermore, there were already several Gandhi statues in Delhi, the best one being the bas-reliefsculpture, situated at the top ofSardarPatel Marg, depicting Gandhi and his followers on the Salt March. But the Central Vista was seen as a far more prestigious location. In 1989, a seated Gandhiji was cast in bronze but turned out to be tao big to fit the cupola; it was then decided that the cupola itself should go. A protest from the CSD triggered off a surprising number of articles, letters to editors and cartoons. Young students of architecture were in agreement with older people in wanting to retain the cupola---the former on the ground that it was good architecture, integral to Lutyens' overall design, the latter out of sentiment. Sensing the general feeling, the cabinet abandoned the plan to remove the cupola, and the Gandhi statue was installed in the precincts of Parliament House.32 A few years later, the question came up again, with the All-India Freedom Fighters' Association anxious to transform India Gate's gardens into a park to commemorate the heroes of the 1942 Quit India Movement. This time the CSD, along with INTACH, got a court injunction to prevent any modification of the area, and in particular to suggest that Gandhiji's statue (a standing one this time) . could be installed anywhere but not along the main Vista. 33 There was a déjà vu feeling about the whole episode, and the DUAC, when asked for comments, simply quoted what had been said by its members back in 1975. What remains disquieting is that, despite so many 'final' decisions, successive governments see nothing wrong in reopening the issue, and that the calculations are purely political-to hijack Gandhiji-rather than aesthetic. It is clear that the Central Vista is seen as the axis ofnational political power, and that Gandhi's Samadhi at Rajghatwill never have the same significance.31 It is also clear that architects now accept Lutyens' buildings as weIl as his city-plan as canonical. Neo-colonial architecture has become fashionable, as have 'colonial' furniture, prints and even cuisine. One of the regrets of Lutyens' admirers is that the official obsession with national security prevents them having access to aIl but three rooms of Rashtrapati Bhawan or to Hyderabad House. The third stately home, Baroda House, has been carved up into cubicles by the Railway Ministry. Baker's Secretariat buildings also suffer from a combination of overuse and lack of concern for their exquisite tiled fioors, niches and inscriptions. Like 'colonial' buildings in other towns, they have become degraded through their continuous use as offices.

GEITING DOWN TO BUSINESS 'Conservation' needs vision, policy and agency. De1hi's various pasts have been objects of visitors' attention for centuries. Tourists have become numerically significant in the last fifty years. The threats to historic buildings-pollution, encroachments, misuse, neglect, lack ofrepair-have 170 NARAYANI GUPTA been noticed and commented on, with the assumption that the official custodians/occupants would respond. This has not happened to any significant degree. Therefore, while vision shines through in speeches and articles, clear-cut policy has not been spelt out. Amenity groups like the CSD are regarded as having nuisance value. INTACH, with its high-profile image, is at best treated with occasional deference but the custodians can play Delhi's favourite game-'passing the buck'. At the popular level is the fundamental dilemma faced in so many spheres in India-is the modern not more desirable than the old? The members of a family on a recent visit to Delhi were strolling on the spacious platform of Humayun's mausoleum, camera at the ready, when one of them spotted a newly built place ofworship at sorne distance, its new marble surface glowing in the sun. 'Take a photograph ofthat', he urged. 'It is so new and beautiful, not old like this building' (Plate 9.8). Conservation advocacy can be awakened by nostalgia and sustained by the prospect of economic gain. However, nostalgia often becomes compartmentalized and easily acquires communi­ tarian overtones; and more immediate economic gain seems to lie in demolishing and replacing old buildings rather than conserving them. Against the indifference of the majority is the concern of the few. The faith of the few has been known to move, if not mountains, at least endangered heritage buildings. In Delhi, attitudinal change has begun, and the third generation of independent Indians will achieve and gain more from it. The gain will not be something quantifiable. To be aware of the history of the place where one lives helps one situate oneselfin that history and overcome rootlessness, the commonest disease ofcity-dwellers. It also brings that sense ofjoy that only good, well-maintained architecture can give.

NOTES

1. Y.K.R.Y. Rao and P.B. Desai, Greater Delhi: A Study in Urbanization, Delhi: Asia, 1965. 2. Percival Spear, Delhi: Ils Monuments and HistMY (updated and annotated by Narayani Gupta and Laura Sykes), Delhi: OUP, 1997. 3. M. Mujeeb was the author of the well-known book 1ndian Muslims, Delhi: Munshiram Manoharlal,1985. 4. J. Fergusson, HistMY of1ndia and Eastem Architecture, 2 vols., London: John Murray, 1876, reprinted Delhi: Munshirarn Manoharlal, 1967; Percy Brown, 1ndian Architecture (The Islamic Period), Bombay: DBT, 1990;John Marshall, The MonumentsofMuslim India', in Cambridge History of1ndia, vol. 3, CUP; Delhi: S. Chand & Co., 1970. 5. T. Yamanoto, M. Ara and T. Tsukinowa, Delhi: Architectural Remains ofthe Period (inJapanese). 3 vols., Tokyo: University ofTokyo Press, 1967-70. 6. C.S.H. Jhabwala, Delhi: Stones and Streets, Delhi: Ravi Dayal, 1990. 7. S. Bhattacharya, The Management of the Past', Biblio, Delhi: July-August 1997, pp. 31-2. 8. Sten Nilsson, European Architecture in 1ndia 1750-1850, London: Faber and Faber, 1968. 9. .Ion Lang, Madhavi Desai and Miki Desai, Architecture and 1ndefJeTU1ence.- The Search for1dentity­ 1ndia 1880 to 1980, Delhi: OUP, 1997. See also A.G. Krishna Menon, this volume. 10. Gordon Cullen, The Ninth Delhi, Delhi: Town and Country Planning Organization, 1960. Il. R.G. Irving, 1ndian Summer-Lutyens, Baker and the Making of1mtJeriai Delhi, Delhi: OUP, 1982. 12. Delhi Development Authority, Drafl Master Plan fM Delhi, 2 vols., Delhi: Government of India, 1960. CONCERN, INDIFFERENCE, CONTROVERSY 171

13. 1 am grateful to Professor KT. Ravindran for this information. 14. The Balrnmama, Memoirs of , Prince and Emperor, trans., ed. and annotated by Wheeler M. Thackson, New York: OUP, 1996, p. 327. 15. J.A. Page, List of Mohammedan and Hindu Monuments, Delhi Pmvinre, 4 vols., Calcutta: Government ofIndia Press, 1916-22, popularly called the 'Zafar Hasan Volumes' after the ASI official who did the survey. These have been reprinted with a wrong title-Monuments ofDelhi: LastingSptendour ofthe Great Mughal5 and Othen, Delhi: Aryan Books International, 1997. 16. YD. Sharma, Delhi and its Neighbourhood, Delhi: Director Ceneral ofArchaeology in India, 1964, Archeological Survey ofIndia, 1990. 17. For example, Karoki Le\\~s, and Charles Lewis, Delhi 's Historie Villages, Delhi: Ravi Dayal, 1997; and M.M. Kaye (ed.), The Golden Calm, Exeter, Devon: Webb and Bower Publishers Ltd., 1980. 18. For a discussion of this, see Emma Tarlo, Clothing Matlers, London: Hurst and Co., 1996, Chapter 9. 19. Delhi DevelopmentAuthority, Delhi 2001, Delhi: DDA, 1985. 20. Jagmohan, RebuildingShahjahanabad, Delhi: Vikas Publishing House, 1975. 21. M. Dayal, Rediscovering Delhi, Delhi: S. Chand & Co., 1975. 22. J. Dayal and A. Bose, Delhi under the EmergenC), Delhi: Ess Ess Publishers, 1997. 23. For information on resettlement poliey during the Emergency, see Emma Tarlo, this volume. 24. Shahjahanabad: Improvement ofLiving Conditions inTraditional Housing Areas, Delhi: School of Planning and Architecture and Max Mueller Bhavan, 1980. 25. P.K Varma, and S. Shankar, Mansions at Dusk: The Haveli.< of Dtd Delhi, Delhi: Spantech, 1992. 26. C. Banon and L. Malone, OUI Delhi: T'en Easy Walks, Delhi: Rupa, 1988. 27. Narayani Cupta, Delhi Between Two EmtJires 1803-1931, Delhi: OUP, 1981, 1998. 28. Patwant Singh and Ram Dhamija, Delhi: The Deepening Crisis, Delhi: Sterling, 1989. 29. E.F.N. Ribeiro and A.KJain (eds.), The Future ofNe"lU Delhi, Delhi: DDA, 1984. 30. For R.C. Irving, cf. note Il. 31. P. Davies, Monuments ofIndia, vol. 2, London: Penguin, 1989. 32. Narayani Cupta, 'From Kingsway ta Rajpath-the Democratization ofLutyens' New Delhi', in C. Asher and T.R. Metealf (eds.), PercetJtions ofSouth Asia:5 Vi.

Plate 9.J 'Echoing empty monuments. Entrance to Najaf Khan's Tomb (c. 1782), opposite Safdarjang Airport. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.2 'Oblivious to the geography of adjacent villages.' Humayunpur, a village engulfed by Safdarjang Enclave. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.3 'Villagers and boutique owners trying to take advantage of each other.' Hauz Khas Village. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.4 'The avenue of Chandni Chowk narrowed with veranda-shops.' (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.5 'Students of architecture were encouraged ta study the layollt of {JUiis.' Naugharana, Sha~ahanabad.(Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.6 'The Delhi list includes many havelis.' Haveli in Guli Khazanchi. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) Plate 9.7 'The empty cupola seemed to demand an occupant.' Canopy at Rajpath. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulaù, February 1999.) Plate 9.8 'It is so new and beautiful.' Gurdwara adjoining Humayun's Tomb. (Photograph: Rohit Krishan Gulati, February 1999.) 10

Delhi through the Eyes and Lenses of a Photographer

SATISH SHARMA

'Delhi through the eyes and lenses ofa photographer.' That is what l intend to portray, present my own subjective view ofthe capital, show how my image ofthe street Delhi differs from the idealized image ofDelhi-the capital city of India. l hope to define those differences in the various ways the city has been imagined and imaged. At the same time, l want to contemplate the issue of power: the political games and actor's strategies that featured in the seminar, Delhi Games, and recur in this book. This theme fascinates me because l have recently started seeing photography as a physical site-a geographical space that is the site ofpower games and politics. The photograph has, for me, become the site ofa battle of sights and spectacles. It is a stage on which actors act out roles just for cameras-cameras which then extend the reach of their theatricals in ways which are unbelievable even in a world which see!Jls to be becoming increasingly constructed and controUed by the camera. There are, somebody once said, more photographs in the world today than there are bricks. The camera was invented at a time when industrialization and colonization were fostering the rapid growth of metropolitan cities and giving them a power that the camera was used to describe and, in fact, inscribe. One can hardly separate the camera from the whole phenomenon ofmodernity. In Delhi, the capital ofthe world's largest democracy-a nation, with a multitude oflanguages and a huge number ofilliterate people-the power of photography cannot be underestimated. It is perceived as a 'universal language', that needs no translation, that cuts through regional and language barriers and has an ever expanding and insidious reach. The camera's images-whether as television bytes, still photographs or film footage, are perceived as documents of reality and often accepted as being more real than the reality they construct. Photographs have a veracity that gives them a power, which then has to be used and, more importantly, controUed. And control and use is what photography in Delhi is aU about. Walk the streets around the Central Vista and try to shoot pictures of the DIZ area ('Delhi Imperial Zone'-fifty years after independence it still retains its name) and you will find the police and security agencies on your 174 SATISH SHARMA

back in no time-especially if you seem to be shooting the exteriors of 'Government buildings'. Private security guards, chowkidars and even doormen will be equally vocal and physical in performing their 'duty' of protecting the city, even ifthey arejust manning the doorway ofa commercial showroom you are trying to photograph in the capital's commercial centre­ ConnaughtPlace. It seems that everyone is scared ofthe photographic image they don't control. Photographic access even to tourist sites, which do not faU under Defence oflndia Rules, is controlled by the powers that be. Ifyou want tO'photograph them a little more seriously than a tourist you have to get the ASI's (Archaeological Survey of India's) permission. And even with official permission your access is stilliimited. The 'out ofbounds' areas remain out ofbounds. The special permission to shoot the interior ofthe Taj Mahal, for example, cannot be signed even by the Director General of the AS!. That is something only the Union Minister can sign. What has the ASI got to hide? Nothing hopefully though public monuments in India are often contested sites. Maybe ifs just a matter of having power and loving to exercise il. Or maybe its a colonial hangover coupled witt lessons independent India learnt from her Big Brother-the former Soviet Union. 1 want to go back to my early days as a budding photojournalist, in 1975-the days of the Emergency. India Today was then a new-born news­ magazine for which 1freelanced-shooting images ofpoliticians who dressed up in Gandhi caps and Nehru jackets just for the photographs. When a minister sent for a cap and insisted that 1 take just a head shot that would not show the casual polo-neck sweater he was wearing be1ow, 1 decided that 1 would no longer be a party to controlled photo ops-shooting pretty pictures ofpoliticians and participating in the image creating exercise that . mainstream news photographers were, and still are, a part of. Properly accredited by the Press Information Bureau, they alone have any real access ta the top rungs of the political ladder. Accredited photographers are the pampered pets of the powers that be. Besides exclusive access to the top rungs ofpower, they are given subsidized housing in the best parts ofDelhi's Babu domains and are the only professional photographers who have been allowed duty free import ofphotographic equipment from abroad. And if they don't have the money to buy the equipment they can easily get low interest loans. Rajiv Gandhi made sure ofthatwhen he rose to power on the strength of his 'Mr. Clean' image created by the advertising agency hired to sell him. As an amateur photographer himself, RaJiv Gandhi was quite camera savvy and wel1 versed in the American style ofsel1ing good 100king Presidents. The camera and television have, since the days ofJohn Fitzgerald Kennedy, given good looking and photogenic candidates a definite edge. Sonia Gandhi now seems the ideal candidate for success. The interest in photographs of the 1998 Indian Lok Sabha elections seemed almost nil in the largely visual foreign press until Sonia appeared on the scene. Suddenly the çlections DELHI THROUGH THE E\ES AND LENSES OF A PHOTOGRAPHER 175

came alive for the media. They were now visually viable---complete with a good looking and saleable face. The saleability ofan image definitely has a lot to do with the making of personas. Icons are increasingly created by the market. The tourist market for colourful coffee table books ofthe 'places and faces' kind has definitely defined the way destinations Iike Delhi are photographed. Publishers only print books they know they can sell to foreign tourists who seem interested mainly in reinforcing preconceptions of the places they plan to visit. This has meant the use of colour even by photographers whose self-confessed forte was and is black and white photography. But the black andwhite reality of tourist destinations has no ready market. Colour is what is demanded from 'the Orient' and that is what profit-oriented publishers want from photographers. And is mostly what they get. Consider two of the most well-known books on Delhi. Both are by the same photographer-Raghu Rai. l Both contain a mixture ofcolour and black and white photographs. The first was published by Delhi Tourism but is not entirely touristy-halfthe images are black and white. They are from Raghu Rai's Statesman days. A lot of them were shot as 'human interest' pictures that newspapers love. The second book was supposed to be much more 'personal' and is more about photography as a formalist frame-again apparently non-touristy. But here again there is a continued, almost conscious stress on a Delhi defined by its monuments, a city celebrated by its material constructions, a cliché that photography has created over the 150 years of its existence. Delhi's 'monumental' visual history apparently forecloses any attempt to see and show it as anything else. My recent, personal attempt to see and show a slightly different Delhi when corrimissioned as photographer for the Eicher City Guidez was met with an abrupt '1 am the editor' response. An editorial diktat that ensured yet another stereotypical view of the city. There seems no escaping the monumentality ofDelhi's picture perfect past. Is it, 1wonder, that this is the only image of Delhi that sells, or is this simply a mindsetand a market demand that Delhi photographers have yet to break? The mindsetting begins early in every young photographer's career. They learn primarily from a guru-like older generation of photographers who have yet to break the influence of colonial photography's desire for a .'picturesque' Orient. The gurus train their chelas (followers) by sending them out to shoot pictures of romantic and picturesque monuments or, at best, if the gurus are photojournalists, to photograph the people around theJama Masjid-peoplewho are seen and shown as exotic 'others' by citizens of the same city. 'Others' are always more interesting and easier to shoot­ especially if they are lesser others-people who are not supposed to control their own images. Control over images ofthe selfis a privilege ofthe privileged fewwho can control their imaging by denying access to all but the controlled image-maker-sorneone they pay, someone who works to satisfy them. 1 have recently moved away from a 'social documentary' photography ofjust the underbelly of Indian society to what 1 cali the mink coat of the sarne society. Every third world has its first world and every first world its 176 SATISH SHARMA

third world, someone said. To photograph the first world ofour third world demanded a changed strategy. 1 started with assignments for an interiors magazine. That got me access to otherwise private, rather exclusive and definitely excluding spaces. A Delhi that is as out of bounds to serious documentary photography as Delhi's politicians. This is the Delhi ofPlayboy bars, the Delhi which has chandeliers in its bathrooms. From being a literaI outsider walking the public streets 1decided 1needed a different insight-that of an 'insider' photographing the homes of the upper crust and shooting my own middle class society. In the homes of the ultra rich 1 was still an outsider with limited access, but in the art world of Delhi 1am comparatively speaking, an insider. An insider with better access, better understanding and, 1 hope, incisive insight. 1 have begun to understand the power and politics of photography and 1 am fascinated by the way photography has been used to construct power. My photography has consequently become to a large extent an oppositional practice thatquieùy challenges and hopes to counterpoint mainstream media imagery with my own rather personal and subjective vision and images. 1 began to look at the imaging of politicians more than a decade aga-­ from the post-independence valorizing of them in books published by the Government's own Publications Division through to books like Raghu Rai's A Life in the Day ofIndira Gandhi published by The Statesman. Photographs constructa heroism that is never really challenged, not even after Mrs. Gandhi declares the Emergency. Her greatness is redoubled when she is assassinated and a second, equally eulogising, book is produced. And at Mrs Gandhi's funeral it is the orchestrated scenarios around Teen Murti which received visual prominence in print. The inhuman massacres in Trilokpuri that followed were hardly shot or have been safely edited out of Delhi's visual history. But then there is a difference between the murtis (figures) that photography is used to make and the {ok (people) that it generally looks down on. Post-independence photography has been used to produce a visual history biased towards the construction ofa nationalist image ofthe nation­ from the point of view of the state and its leaders. Looking at the archives and permanent collections ofinstitutions like the Nehru Memorial Library gave me quite a shock last year as 1was compiling the visuals for IndiaToday's Independence special. The bias of government collections towards the Congress Party and the 'first family' is loud and clear-hardly surprising but certainly shocking. There are many images by Homai Vyarawalla in the archives, but the more unflattering ones ofNehru that she shot arejust not there. They are incredible images but visual worth has never been the deciding factor in state archives. What is shocking, though, is the fact that even the archives ofsupposedlyindependentand autonomous art institutions are carefullycensored. A fan tastic, though rather unflattering image ofNehru with the Mountbattens was not shown at Cartier-Bresson's Exhibition of Indian Photographs at the National Gallery ofModern Art in 1992. Bresson has presented a set ofhis Indian photographs to the biggestand best funded DELHI THROUGH THE EYES AND LENSES OF A PHOTOGRAPHER 177 art institution of the country-the Indira Gandhi National Centre for Art. The IGNCA seems to believe that control and censorship are central to the construction ofa photographic archive. But one can not blamejust the state institutions for constructing and compiling a safe nationalist archive. Photographers themselves are doing their own bit. Most pictures of demonstrations and riots are invariably shot from the point ofview ofthe state and its police-simply because photographers place themselves safely behind the police cordon thus 'choosing' an angle that is the viewpoint of the police. Facing the police in a riot situation is not easy, as 1 know to my cost. 1 paid for a photograph a split second later, when the lathi (policeman's stick) landed on me. Photographers generaIly want a different kind of payment-the Padma Shri kind, probably. And that comes with constructing icons and not deconstructing them. What 1 find interesting is that aIl the Padma Shri awardees in photography have done their share of service to the state or the politicians in power. 1 have watched how photography has been used to construct and seIl an iconic image ofthe politician. When 1first saw the arrivaI ofRajiv Gandhi on the streets 1 decided to watch the construction of his image through his posters on Delhi's walls. What 1 saw over a period of a decade was literally the deconstruction of his image. These were some of the images in my exhibition, Deconstructing the Politician (Eicher Gallery, New Delhi, 1997). The politician is carefully constructed and projected at state expense. The guns that surround the leaders and create sacred spaces around them to define their importance arejust the obvious creators and symbols ofpower. The Press Information Bureau daily distributes countless photographs of official 'functions' free of charge to the print media. Co~bine these with the images ofcontrolled photo ops that the agencies and print media produce and you have an image-building exercise that, through sheer repetition, creates not images of the events that occurred but of the importance of the politician who seems to be central to almost every event. Vou can organize a conference on post-colonialism but the image that goes out to the press and the public is of the political stars who graced the occasion and gave it its importance. Conference organizers know that aIl too weIl. They invite the politicians to enhance the importance of their conferences and to get a place in the media the next day. They play the game as weIl as the photographers who shoot images that they know the news editors will use. And news editors know only too weIl where the interests ofthe press and its owners lie. My interestin photography as a medium has meant that 1have begun to look at the different photographies that a society produces. About ten years ago 1 started to collect photographs from local studios and from family albums. The idea was to see what happened ta photography at a subaltern level-in a non-western society. 1wanted to understand photography's social and political spaces--see, for example, what happened when it came into a society that did not really subscribe to the whole discourse of realism that came with western photography; look at the little leelas (religious theatrical 178 SATISB SHARMA performances) thatare enacted in litùe studios for litùe postcard-sized prints. And the image ofDelhi in these personal projections in studios and in private . ~ family albums is as interesting and important a document of Delhi as the one produced by the media. Interestingly enough the media images definitely influence the former. Many of the ideas of what a visual Delhi means are drawn from the images the media projects-in the news and in caffee table books. Birla Mandir is part of the postcard-city constructed by the tourist industry. But in the warld ofone Birla Mandir photographer, the temple is the backdrop to a different kind oftheatrical performance. The photograph here becomes a projection ofan imagined selfand a wish fulfilment for the photographer's subject-his client. What is presented here is anather photography. Another space that photographyoccupies in a subaltern India.

NOTES

1. Raghu Rai, DeiJIi: A Parlrail, Delhi: Oxford University Press & Delhi Tourism Corporation, 1983; Raghu Rai sDeiJIi, Delhi: Indus, an imprint ofHarper Collins, India, 1994. 2. Eicher Cily Guide. Delhi, New Delhi: Eicher Goodearth, 1998. Plate 10.1 Beating the Retreat: dress rehearsal on Vijay Chowk. Plate 10.2 Bofor's gun on R

Plate 10.5 Rajiv Gandhi: popular construeted photograph. Plate 10.6 Political eut-out of a leader, India Gate.

Plate 10.7 Rafi Marg, New Delhi. Plate 10.8 Parliament House.

Plate 10.9 Political cut-out of a leader, Connaught Place. Plate 10.10 Indira Gandhi as Durga: post 1984 elections, New Delhi. Plate 10.11 1984 riots, Trilokpuri.

Plate 10.12 Riot control, Raj Path. Plate 10.13 Netaji Subhas Chandra Bose,Jama Masjid, üld Delhi.

Plate 10.14 Tilak Marg, New Delhi. Plate 10.15 Election graffiti, üld Delhi.

Plate 10.16 Election graffiti, New Delhi. Plate 10.17 Commercial hoarding, New Delhi. Plate 10.18 Street children,Jama Masjid, üld Delhi. Plate 10.19 Chandelier in a bathroom, Old Delhi. Plate 10.20 Vision of Delhi in popular photography: Rida Mandir. Plate 10.21 Vision of Delhi in popular photography: Qutb Minar. Plate 10.22 Vision ofDelhi in popular photography: Bahai Temple. PART IV IDENTITIES AND POLITICS

Il

The Hindu Nationalist Movement in Delhi: From 'Locals' to Refugees-and towards Peripheral Groups?

CHRISTOPHE JAFFRELOT

The BharatiyaJanata Party (BJP) suffered a major setback during the 1998 assembly elections in Delhi when it won only 15 seats to Congress' 51. However, this defeat can be attributed largely to the then growing un­ popularity ofVajpayee's government at the centre. Not long before, during . the last two general elections, held in 1991 and 1996, the BJP had recorded its highest ever scores in Delhi (49.6 per cent and 53 per cent respectively) and its popularity was not a new phenomenon. In faet, in contrast to the adjoining states, Delhi is perhaps the oldestelectoral stronghold ofthe Hindu nationalise movement. As early as the autumn of 1951, the BharatiyaJana Sangh emerged as the main rival to the Congress during the Delhi municipal elections with 25 per centofthe valid votes as against Congress' 33 per cent.1 And during the 1952 assembly elections, it still performed reasonably well taking 22 per cent of the valid votes.2 Since then, theJana Sangh and later the BJP have continued to be the main challenger to the Congress or even the ruling party in Delhi (see Tables 11.1 and 11.2). The exceptional strength of the Hindu nationalist parties in Delhi has often been attributed to the circumstances and implications of Partition: communal feelings were exacerbated in a city which had been badly affected by Hindu-Muslim riots and which harboured so many refugees from Pakistan.

TABLE 11.1. PARTI-WISE COMPOSITION OF DELHI MUNICIPAL CORPORATION

Party 1958 1962 1967 1971

Congress 42 73 42 44 Jana Sangh 25 9 52 53 Communists 7 2 2 1 Others 1 2 1 Independents 9 3 3 3 TOTAL 84 87 101 102

SaureR: Delhi Gazetteer, New Delhi, Delhi Administration, 1976. 182 CHRISTOPHE JAFFRELOT

TABLE 11.2. PERCENTAGE OF VOTES POLLED IN STATE ELECTIONS AND DELHI METROPOLITAN COUNCIL ELECTIONS

Year ofelection Congress BJS/BJP Swatantra/Janata Party

1952 52.1 21.9 1972 48.5 38.5 0.1 1977 36.1 52.6 1983 47.5 37.0 3.7

Source: D. Gupta, The Context ofEthnicity, Delhi: OUP, 1996, p. 37.

This approach tan be substantiated by facts but it needs to be supplemented and refined. First, the Hindu nationalist movement had already sorne support before 1947 in Delhi, as suggested by the pre-independence development ofthe Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) , which relied on the collaboration between local notables (who were often big merchants) and activists from the intelligentsia (who, originaIly, were Maharashtrian Brahmins). Second, the influx of so many Punjabis who resented the Congress' so caIled 'appeasement' policy towards Musiims did help theJana Sangh, but this was partly because manyofthe refugees had already imbibed Hindu nationalism in the Punjab. Furthermore, while theJana Sangh depended on the refugees (for its organization as weIl as at the time ofelections), it did not become the party ofthe refugees. In fact, refugees voted in large numbers for the Congress while it was the local business community who provided strong support for the Jana Sangh, and the BJP. In a way, these parties were primarily representative of the 'middle worId'. The BJP has retained this social profile today even though it tries to reach the rural periphery ofDelhi.

THE RSS üRGANIZATIüN-BUILDING PATIERN IN DELHI The RSS was not the first Hindu nationalist organization in Delhi. Kenneth Jones considers that Delhi 'beGi-me the centre ofa new type ofHinduism­ organized, structured Hinduism'3 as early as the late nineteenth century, especiaIly after Dayananda founded a branch of the there in 1878 and after Din Dayal Sharma established the headquarters ofthe Bharat Dharm Mahamandal, a Sanatanist (orthodox) association in 1890, foIlowed by the founding of the Hindu CoIlege in 1899. In 1909 the Arya Samaj also transferred its main office to Delhi with the creation of the Sarvadeshik Arya Pratinidhi. The Delhi Provincial Hindu Sabha was later founded by Arya Samajists and Sanatanists in 1918 and the headquarters of the was transferred from to Delhi in 1925, after L~pat Rai became its president. The Hindu Sabha movement was never a mass movement in Delhi-it poIled only 179 votes, as against Congress' 6,261 during the 1945 Legislative Assembly elections when the winning candidate and his runner-up were both Muslims. 4 But its modest resources helped the RSS take root in Delhi in the 1930s. In its formative phase, the RSS developed its network by sending THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 183

pracharaks (full-time propagandists) from Nagpur ta most cities, in particular to those with substantial student populations since the educated youth was its priority target (and the pracharakscould approach students after registering themselves as students). As KR. Malkani explains, 'In town after town the Sangha pracharak would arrive with a few letters ofintroduction to the local leaders, whether belonging to Congress, Hindu Mahasabha, Arya Samaj or whatever. He would put up in the local Bhavan ofany ofthese organisations or in a temple orwith anywell-wisher. '5 This modus operandi is weIl illustrated byan example from Delhi in the 1930s. The pracharak who was sent to Delhi was Vasant Rao Oke. A Chitpavan Brahmin from Nagpur, he hadjoined the RSS in 1927 and had served as secretary to Hedgewar for sometime. He had completed his Instructors' Training Camp (ITC) in 1929-30 and his omcers' Training Camp (OTC) in 1931 and organized the first OTC outside of Nagpur in Poona in 1934.6 Mter this he was sent to Delhi where he received the support ofPadam Raj Jain, a notable from the Hindu Mahasabha. This Marwari from Calcutta had been impressed by the Nagpur shakha (RSS branch) which he had visited after the session of the Hindu Mahasabha in Poona in 1935. He told Hedgewar how much he appreciated his 'silent but highly important work" and suggested that the RSS start a branch in Delhi. Vasant Rao Oke was sent there in November 1936 and as general secretary of the Hindu Mahasabha, P.R.Jain he1ped him establish the Delhi shakha by authorizing him to set up his general headquarters-and the first shakhar-in the central office of the Mahasabha.8 This office was close to Birla Mandir and Jugal Kishore Birla who patronized the temple extended his help to Oke.9 The latter found his first recruits in the premises of the temple. One of them recaIls: We used to go to Birla Mandir to play and once Vasant Rao üke was on the road. He was on the lookout for young people to start the shakha. He saw us play. He called us and asked why we were playing there and would we want to learn how ta wield a lathi [stick], to wield a sword. We said, 'Yes'. We went to the shakha and gat enralled there, in 'Hindu matri bhavan'. It was the first branch in Delhi. It was opened in 1936.10 In 1937, there were six shakhasin Delhi but ten years later, at the time of Partition, there were as many as one hundred, according to Oke who had become prant (provincial) pracharak (in charge of the Delhi province) in 1938 and kept this position for ten years. It was a big unit, compared to others in Uttar Pradesh and elsewhere. Oke was especially successful at attracting government servants, students from the three main colleges (Hindu College, St Stephen's and Ramjas) and Banias, as the social profile of his patrons testifies. Each branch ofthe RSS used to benefitfrom the supportoflocal patrons who were saon referred to as sanghchalaks (literaIly, directors). They functioned mosùy as counsellors or even guides and conferred a certain respectability to the movement by sponsoring the pracharaks' activities. In Delhi, Padam Raj Jain could not play this part for long because of the deteriorating relations between the RSS and the Hindu Mahasabha, especially 184 CHRJSTOPHE JAFFRELOT after Madhav Sadashiv Golwalkar took over as sarsanghchalak of the RSS in 1940. This role was played in 1937-40 by Prakash Dutt Bhargava, an advocate who had met Golwalkar at the Banares Hindu University (BHU) when he was a studentbutwho was originallyfrom Aimer andwas notvery influential­ not even a notable in the true sense of the word.1l For these reasons he could not fulfil the conditions for being a good sanghchalak and ended up contacting Lala Harichandra Gupta, who was to become the first Delhi sanghchalak in 1940. As a zamindar (landlord) who owned orchards in Uttar Pradesh, and a rich businessman with a factory in Delhi, he had 'a social public life'12 and had been elected to the Municipal Council. An RSS old timer described him as a rais, a wealthy notable. When he came to Delhi, Golwalkar would stay in Lala Harichandra Gupta's house situated in Sitaram Bazaar. 13 A bigger rais, Lala Hans Raj Gupta, became prant sanghchalak in the late 1940s. Though he had an MA (Master of Arts) and an LLB (Bachelor of Laws) degree, Hans Raj Gupta never practised law because he had joined his father-in-Iaw's business in the mid-1920s and had soon after inherited important firms from both him and his own father. He had settled in Delhi in the 1930s when his father had already built a bungalow at 20 Road. The family made a fortune from the steel industry and by renting sugar cane crushers to the peasants ofwestern Uttar Pradesh. In 1937, the responsibilityofthe iron syndicate feH on him and he started an iron forgery, a distillery in Meerut as weH as factories making cycles and fans in the 1940s.1 4 He looked after the Delhi-based business ofM. Vishveshwarya, a civil engineer from who had built a big dam there and was the founder president of the AlI India Manufacturers Association ofDelhi, an institution ofwhich Hans Raj Gupta was made the chairman in 1945.15 In addition to his business, Hans Raj Gupta had inherited ideological inclinations from his father. The latter had been a staunch Arya Samajist who had sent his son to Arya Samaj prayer meetings every Sunday as weH as Arya Samajistschools. One ofhis teachers, Mohan Singh Mehta, had initiated him into the scout movement and Hans Raj Gupta remained supportive of the Hindustan Scouts Association aH his life. In 1935 hejoined the Congress but he soon considered that its so-caHed 'appeasement policy' towards Muslims was responsible for]innah's militancy and he shifted to the RSS in 1944-5. Oke contacted him first: l met Hans Raj Gupta because in every area we used ta arrange meetings with goad people [sic]. In BarakhambaRaad there were several goad people: sorne businessmen, sorne cantractars. From every hause we used ta call on one man every manth at one place where l wauld go ta address them about the Sangh'5 ideas. They were invited ta visit at least one shakha ta see our wark. 1fi Hans Raj Gupta was thus requ'ested to visit a shakha and then to preside over the RSS function ofRaksha Bhandan in 1945. These details are revealing of the way the RSS penetrated the establishment of Delhi. In 1946, H.R. Gupta attended an ITC in Vrindavan, where he met Golwalkar. He became THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 185

the prant sanghchalak in 1947, and in 1948 chairman of Bharat Prakashan, the publisher of the RSS mouthpieces, The Organiser and The Motherland (in the 1970s). As a true notable, Hans Raj Gupta succeeded in occupying posts of responsibility without contesting elections. He became the mayor of Delhi in 1967 after being selected as one of the six eldermen by the hundred elected members of the Municipal Corporation. He was re-elected up to 1973 and his son, Rajendra Gupta, reached the same position in 1977-9. By then, Hans Raj Gupta had given up party politics in order to devote more time to what he called 'social work'. In fact, he patronized caste associations (he supported the Aggarwal Sabha's efforts to organize this merchant caste and reform its social habits) and educational institutions [he was chairman of the DAV (Dayananda Anglo-Vedic) Higher Secondary School of Yusuf Sarai and gave financial assistance ta College, the Hindu College, Bal Bharati Public School, etc.]. He also contributed to the scout movement (in the 1970s he was still director of the Delhi branch of the Bharat Scout and Guides). Rather than social, these activities were more akin to philanthropy than social work. They were in fact weIl in tune with the traditional function of the rais.!? In his work on Allahabad, c.A. Bayly suggests that the Indian National Congress was first established at the local level thanks to the collaboration of rais and publicists-educated Brahmins (or Kayasthas) flu.ent in English and able to present the daims of the rais to the British. IR The rais would support the publicists in their efforts to defend Hindu society and culture (especially festivals such as the Magh Mela of Allahabad) from British interference. Bayly points out that the publicists gradually emancipated themselves from the rais after the reforms of 1909 and 1919 and became full-fledged politicians.!9 However, such a schema still seems relevant to the study of the RSS even after 1947. In this case, the publicists were primarily pracharaks whose main purpose was to propagate the ideology of the movement. Mostwere educated Brahmins who seemed more prepared than 'modern' Congressmen to seek the guidance ofconservative notables whose patronage they needed. In Delhi, the rais-publicist combination was successively embodied first by the pair formed by Lala Harichandra Gupta and Vasant Rao Oke; then by Hans Raj Gupta and Oke, and from the mid-1950s onwards, by Hans Raj Gupta and Madhav Rao Muley. The latter, again a Chitpavan Brahmin, had been sent from Nagpur to in 1940 to occupy the newly created post of prant pracharak for the Punjab province which induded Delhi according to the RSS map of India.20 In this capacity, Muley tended to edipse Oke, especiallyafter the latter developed a keen interest in the creation of the Jana Sangh despite Golwalkar's initial reservations about the implication of pracharaks entering party politics. Thus, one of the main assets of the RSS in Delhi was the support which it gathered from rais of the business community. Besides the elite of this milieu, many other Delhi Banias took an interest in the movement. Kanwar 186 CHRISTOPHE JAFFRELOT

LaI Gupta was one ofthem. This rich merchant, educated at Delhi University in the 1940s,joined the RSS, and later became the first general secretary of the Delhi PradeshJana Sangh in 1951. He was elected to the Delhi Vidhan Sabha in 1953, to the Municipal Corporation in 1958 and to the Lok Sabha from Sadar constituency-its base-in 1967. 21 Another Bania, Shyam Charan Gupta, an Arya Samajist who joined the RSS in 1940, was also president of the Delhi branch of the Boy Scouts Association and of the Delhi Provincial Aggarwal Sabha. He was elected MLA (Member ofthe Legislative Assembly) on aJana Sangh ticket in 1952 and was then made Municipal Councillor in 1967 and 1972.22 In fact, the merchant castes were weil represented among the RSS andJana Sangh leadership both before and after Partition, something which can be explained in various ways. First, the Arya Samaj-whose organization had always been strong among the merchant castes of the Punjab-had prepared the ground for Hindu nationalism. In 1931, out of about 4,00,000 Hindus there were more than 50,000 Arya Samajists in Delhi.23 Most of them probably belonged to the merchant communities; in the Punjab the merchant castes (Khatris, Aroras, Agarwals) and Brahmins together represented about half of the 1,00,846 Arya Samaj members in 1911.24 The merchant castes appreciated the Aryas' notion of'self-help' which suited their sense ofenterprise and perhaps even stemmed from il. Arya Samajists were the first to set up indigenous undertakings such as the Punjab National Bank and the Bharat Insurance Company in the 1890s.25 The Arya Samaj's success story in the Punjab had a lot to do with the specifie social structure of the province. The Kshatriyas who had seen their power being taken away by Sikhs and Brahmins and [elt deprived ofpatrons, had to take recourse to the support of the merchant castes. 26 The Banias came to occupy the forefront ofHindu society more and more exdusively as the British allowed them to extend their economic dominance and to translate it into socio-economic terms through education.27 Barrier argues that the Arya Sam~j's attraction to the Banias stemmed [rom the fact that in spite of ail these changes the Banias remained the last of the 'twice born': 'Dayananda's daim that caste should be determined primarily by merit not birth, opened new paths of social mobility to educated Vaishyas who were trying to achieve social status commensurate with their improving economic status.'2R Dipankar Gupta has suggested more convincingly that the Arya Samaj gained much support in the Punjab, especially from Banias, because the local society was free from brahminical control and orthodoxy.29 While the Arya Samaj had prepared the ground for Baniasjoining the RSS in Delhi as it had in the Punjab, there were sorne Delhi Banias who joined the RSS without having anyArya Samaj background. One RSS veteran, who admits the over representation of Banias in the RSS, considers that it provided a good opportunity for Banias to practise sports in the light of the fact that they spent most of their time sitting down in their shops: 'Businessmen wouldjoin the RSS,' he argued, 'because it wouId give them something in terms of exercise.'30 The need for physical strength was even THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 187 more acutely feh in the 1940s when Muslim organizations demanding the creation of Pakistan, began to acquire a similar para-military dimension. Thus Delhi's magnates such as Hans Raj Gupta and, more generally, a number oflocal Banias, contributed to the growth of the Hindu nationalist movement in the city, even bèfore independence. However, the main factor influencing the rise ofthe RSS and later theJana Sangh after independence was the influx ofrefugees from the Punjab.

AMBIVALENCE OF REFUGEES' SUPPORT Partition and the influx ofthousands ofrefugees into Delhi in 1947 enabled the Hindu nationalist movement to organize mass mobilizations in the city for the first time. In 1947 about 4,50,000 people from west Punjab setùed in Delhi. They composed almost one-third ofthe urban population.31 Many of them had lost everything and sorne had been victims ofcommunal violence. The Hindu Mahasabha and the RSS presented themselves as organizations catering to their needs and exploited their resentment. On 7 December 1947, about 50,000 peoplè attended a meeting held by the two organizations. The main speakers were the Maharaja ofAlwar, Gokul Chand Narang andJugal Kishore Birla, both close to the Hindu Mahasabha and Golwalkar who eulogized the role ofhis movementin protecting Hindus in Punjab. He also criticized the 'satanic' attitude of Nehru's government for its 'appeasement' policy vis-à-vis Pakistan.32 Refugees had already openly expressed their resentment ofGandhi on several occasions,33 especially when he announced what was to be his last fast in January 1948. Immediately, refugees demonstrated in front of Birla House, shouting slogans such as 'Blood for blood!' and 'Let Gandhi die! '34 In addition to the Rs. 550 million for Pakistan, Gandhi wanted local representatives of the different com­ munities to sign a 'peace-pledge' before he suspended his fast. Interestingly, Hans Raj Gupta did so on behalfofthe Hindus. However, on 25January, the Hindu Mahasabha and the Delhi branch of the Arya Samaj organized a procession against Gandhi's fast and two days later the Hindu Mahasabha heId a meéting, allegedly attended by 50,000 people, in which Gandhi and the Congress were aggressively accused ofbeing responsible for Partition.35 A few days later, on 30 January 1948, Mahatma Gandhi was assassinated in Birla House by Nathuram Godse. Besides orchestrating the refugees' protest and exploiting their resentment, the Hindu Mahasabha and RSS tried to project themselves as their benefactors. The Hindu Mahasabha Bhawan was opened to refugees and food as weIl as clothes were distributed while the Hindu Mahasabha established a refugee camp near the railway station.36 However, it was short of funds and after sorne time the Mahasabha contented itself with having lists ofjob seekers circulated among local businessmen. The sangh parivar or the sangh family-an expression designating the RSS and its offshoots-played a more important part after the ban imposed on the RSS because of its links with Gandhi's assassin was lifted in 1949. In 188 CHRISTOPHE jAFFRELOT faet, it couId by this stage appear more convincingly as the protector of the refugees because most of its leaders, especially in the newly created Jana Sangh, came from Punjab. While Oke, Muley and 'Iocals' such as Hans Raj Gupta remained at the helm of the RSS, an increasing number ofPunjabis were taken on as their lieutenants and the Delhi unit of the Jana Sangh recruited most of its cadres from this milieu. Men such as , Bhai Mahavir, Vijay Kumar Malhotra, Kedar Nath Sahni and Har Dayal Devgun were among the most prominent figures and they shared a similar background. Madhok came from a -based Khatri family with Arya Samajist leanings.37 He joined the RSS in 1938 while he was studying in DAV Col­ lege in Lahore. According to him, 'the Arya Samajists were closest to Dr Hedgewar's way of thinking'.38 He became a pracharak in 1942 and was sem to in this capacity. Bhai Mahavir, the son of Bhai Parmanand, a staunch Arya Samajist who had been President of the Hindu Mahasabha in 1933, was one of his fellow-students in DAV College in Lahore and he joined the RSS at the same time. 39 He too was a Khatri. He had spent a couple ofyears, from 1942 to 1944, as a pracharakinJalandhar before working as office secretary of the RSS in Lahore from 1944 to 1947. After 1947 he settled down inJalandhar and then in Karnal where he worked as a lecturer. He came to Delhi in 1956 when he was offered ajob in Punjab University College, an institution specially created for Punjabi refugees, where Madhok was already teaching. Madhok had come ta Delhi soon after Partition. He had taken part in the foundation of the Praja Parishad40 in Jammu in November 1947 and had been expelled fromJammu and Kashmir soon after because of his political activities. In 1948 he settled in Delhi. J The moving spirit behind the creation of the Jana Sangh was Syama Prasad Mookerjee but his colleagues in this enterprise werc either Delhi­ based Hindu nationalists or refugees from Punjab. After he resigned from Nehru's government because ofthe Liaqat-Nehru Pact in April 1950, he was given a welcome ceremony by a group ofprominentDelhi citizens, including Hans Raj Gupta, Vasant Rao Oke, Mauli Chandra Sharma (the son of Din Dayal Sharma, a co-founder of the Hindu Mahasabha, who had worked in the administration of several Princely States before settling in Delhi) 41 and Lala Yodhraj Bhalla, the son ofHans Raj, one ofthe founders ofDAV College in Lahore and the president of the Punjab National Bank. Mookerjee immediately launched a campaign for the defence of refugees which culminated in July with an Ali India Refugee Conference which attracted 15,000 participants in Delhi.42 Several months later, in January 1951, Mookerjee discussed the possibility of founding a new party with the same group: Madhok, Bhai Mahavir, Dharmavir (Bhai Parmanand's son-in-Iaw, a former lecturer in English in Lahore and the Punjab prantpracharak) , Balraj Bhalla (Yodhraj's brother) and Mahasha Krishnan (an Arya Samajist who edited Pratap in Lahore before Partition and who continued to do so in Delhi after 1947).43 On 27 May 1951, one month after the creation of the West Bengal branch of theJana Sangh by Mookerjee, a meeting was held in THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 189

Jalandhar at the instigation of Madhok, to launch the Jana Sangh which would represent Punjab and Delhi. 44 Balraj Bhalla was elected its first president, M.C. Sharma its vice-president and Balraj Madhok its secretary.45 Madhok and Bhai Mahavir were appointed to important posts in the Ali India Jana Sangh which was founded in Delhi on 21 October 1951, with Bhai Mahavir becoming general secretary and Madhok a member of the working committee (and in 1958 national secretary in charge ofnorth India), but they continued to play a part in the party-building process in Delhi too-­ with Madhok presiding over the local branch of theJana Sangh in 1959 and winning the Lok Sabha scat for New Delhi in a bye-election in 1961. Other refugees were also very active in the local party apparatus. Refugees with an RSS backgroundgradually took over the party apparatus in the 1950s and displaced leaders who either had no RSS background­ like the Hindu Sabhaites-orwere notfrom westPunjab. The turning point occurred in 1954 when Vaid Guru Dutt, the president of the Delhi Jana Sangh, expressed his resentment of RSS interference in party affairs. An Arya Samajist and teacher of History in the Government College, Lahore, before he migrated to Delhi where he became a writer and practised Ayurvedic medicine, Guru Dutt had no links with the RSS. Ironically enough, K.L. Gupta, vice-president of the Delhi Jana Sangh, and V.R. Oke, its Organizing Secretary, supported him, even though they were from RSS cadres. This local conflict crystallized at the same time that similar developments were occurring in the party central headquarters where M. Sharma, who had succeeded Mookerjee as party president in 1953, also objected to RSS interference, but in vain. Eventually, like Dutt, Gupta and Oke, he resigned. The Delhi Jana Sangh was dissolved46 and then re­ constituted with former RSS pracharaks from Punjab at the helm. While Madhok was president, he had so many responsibilities at the nationallevel that the day to day affairs fell to K.N. Sahni's share. Sahni hadjust settled in Delhi in 1954. He came fromJalandhar where he had worked as pracharak. A native ofPunjab, he was born in Rawalpindi and studied in Multan Arya Samaj School. Like Madhok, he considers that in Punjab, the 'Arya Samaj prepared the ground for the RSS to work'. He had been sent to Kashmir as a pracharak in 1946 and later to cast Punjab after having been expelled fromJammu and Kashmir in 1948,41 In 1954 he was appointed to the key post of organization secretary of the Delhi Jana Sangh. He became general secr~taryfour years later when LaI KrishnaAdvani took over from him. Advani was not from Punjab, but was a refugee from Sindh, like another RSS figure in Delhi, Kewalram Ratanmal Malkani.48 Advani hadjoined the RSS in Hyderabad (Sindh) in 1942, had been sent to Karachi as a pracharak in 1947 and had migrated to Rajasthan, where he worked as pracharakafter Partition.49 He came to Delhi in 1957 and became secretary and later vice-president of the Delhi Jana Sangh. Thus, the key posts of the party unit were gradually occupied by refugees with an RSS background. In addition to this sociological change, the sangh parivar worked for the cause of refugees-or pretended to do so. 190 CHRISTOPHE jAFFRELOT

Hans Raj Gupta initiated a Hindu Sahayata Samiti which worked almost as a front for the RSS. Though it was especially active in Delhi, it also had sorne existence elsewhere in India-in Gwalior for instance. Its main work consisted ofdistributing clothes and blankets in refugee camps and enrolling children in the new Hindu Sahayata Samiti schools.50 However, the refugees gradually became less concerned with emergency measures and more interested in issues such as the cost ofrent and the rate ofloans. In the sangh parivar, Vimal Kumar Malhotra devoted comparatively more time to these issues in the framework ofa 'welfarist tactic' weil in tune with the RSS tradition of selective relief-work: its activists' network has always enabled the sangh parivarto do a kind of social work which, in fact, was intended to help the movement to build pockets ofinfluence among poor, displaced persons and the like. Malhotra had a profile similar to Madhok and Mahavir: a Khatri by caste, he hadjoined the RSS in Lahore while in the 7th class at DAV College and had been sent toJammu as a pracharakin 1947. Not long after, he had come to Delhi to study at Punjab University College-the college specially created for Punjabi refugees. He later taught there-like Madhok and Mahavir he was a teacher by traini.ng-ti!! the college closed down in 1958.51 Malhotra thenjoined DAV College. As a student leader he became secretary of Delhi University Student Union (DUSU) in 195152 and later ail India organizing secretary of the RSS backed student union, the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad (ABVP) till 1952 when he shifted to the 'refugees front'. He was then the founder-president of the Kendriya Chamarti Sabha (Cen tral RefugeesAssociation) and one ofthe three convenors ofthe United Refugees Front, the two others being Balraj Khanna (then a mernber of the Hindu Mahasabha) and Bishamdar Kapur (close to an ex-Hindu Sabhaite from the Congress, Mehr Chand Khanna-see below). This organization, which had been set up 'under the initiative of Delhi PradeshJana Sangh'53 lobbied in favour ofthe refugees. It fought against the elevation ofrents in government­ built residential quarters and shops in refugee colonies like Lajpat Nagar, , Malaviya Nagar, Moti Nagar, Ramesh Nagar and so forth. The DelhiJana Sangh supported the agitation ofthe United Refugees Front against the government decision to recover full payments on refugees' properties within three years-K.N. Sahni asked for thirty years. Being a party with refugees at its helm and defending the cause of refugees from Punjab, theJana Sangh was weil placed for getting the refugees' votes. A study of refugees from the Dehra Dun district shows that about 40 per cent of them remained very hostile to Muslims and considered that the Congress had done no good for the country. ln a place like Rishikesh, this attitude combined with support for the RSS andJana Sangh.54 Gita Puri came to a similar conclusion in her study oftheJana Sangh in Delhi. Among the fourJana Sangh MLAs elected in Delhi in 1952 were C.D. Salwan, the president ofthe Refugees ReliefCommittee inJhandewalan (where the RSS headquarters was situated and where so many refugees had settled), Shyam Charan Gupta in Daryaganj (again a constituency with many refugees) and THE HINDU NATlONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 191

Rana Jang Bahadur Singh (in Kingsway Camp-a former refugee camp). During the 1954 elections to the Municipal Corporation, the Jana Sangh won 10 ofits 15 seats in refugee-dominated constituencies,55 and during the 1958 elections to the Municipal Corporation, theJana Sangh won 16 (out of 25) seats in refugee-dominated constituencies.56 In the 1962 municipal elections, when the party suffered a severe setback, it won 6 ofits 9 seats in constituencies with a substantial percentage of refugees. In 1967, 23 of its 52 seats and in 1971, 23 of its 53 seats were won in Punjabi-dominated constituencies. However, to consider the Jana Sangh of Delhi as 'the party of refugee people'57 is incorrect. First, Punjabis probably voted for theJana Sangh not only because of the hardships they suffered as refugees but also because of their backgrounds: many ofthem were already supporters ofthe RSS before 1947. Indeed, the movement saw a dramatic increase in the 1930s and 1940s in eastern and western Punjab as weil as in Delhi. In fact, of ail the Indian provinces, Punjab was the one state where the RSS developed most quickly. While the first shakhas had started there in 1935 with the help of Arya Samajists turned Hindu Sabhaites (like Bhai Parmanand), the movement swelled in greater Punjab (Delhi and Himachal Pradesh included, but west Punjab excluded) to reach 14,000 members by 194058 and 1,25,000 members by 1951.59 The fortunes of the RSS in Punjab were undoubtedly linked to the rise of separatism among local Muslims. At that time, the organization tended to function as a militia for both offensive and defensive purposes.60 More important, theJana Sangh cannot be considered the party of the refugees, not only because its strength in the city-<:apital was not purely based on refugee support, but also because there were refugees who did not vote for this party. A large number of refugees did in fact remain close to the Congress, not least because they already saw it as a Hindu party even before Partition. Almost since its inception in the late nineteenth century, there had been a strong Hindu traditionalist current in the Punjab Congress. Lala Lajpat Rai epitomized this school of thought till his death in 1928, as did several other extremists from the Arya Samaj. One of his lieutenants, Gopichand Bhargava, took over from Rai in the 1930s, and after Partition, Gopichand's brother, Thakurdas Bhargava, became one of the main advocates ofHindu traditionalism in the ConstituentAssembly. He objected to the recognition of religious minorities as 'communities'61 and to the granting of rights of citizenship to non-Hindu immigrants from Pakistan. He was also one of the staunchest advocates of cow protection and the promotion ofHindi as a nationallanguage.62 Many Delhi-based Punjabi Congressmen had similar Hindu leanings. Jagat Narain, who had been a student of Bhai Parmanand and remained a staunch Arya Samajist, was a Congressman. He was the editor of Milap, an Arya Samaj paper with a strong inclination towards the Congress.6~ In addition to this tradition, Mehr Chand Khanna, the key figure of Hindu politics in the North-West Frontier Province before 1947, was c(H)pted into the central government soon after Partition. Khanna-Rai Bahadur 192 CHRISTOPHE JAFFRELOT since 1927-was a rais of Peshawar who had been elected to the Municipal Council as early as 1922 and who was appointed by the British to the NWFP (North-West Frontier Province) Franchise Committee in 1932. He had been elected to the Legislative Council in 1933 on a Hindu Mahasabha ticket.61 He shifted to the Congress after Partition and worked first as an advisor for the Ministry ofRehabilitation and later as its minister. At the same time, he was at the helm ofa powerful refugees' lobby, the Delhi RefugeesFederation. In 1962, Khanna was the Congress candidate for the prestigious Lok Sabha seat ofNew Delhi against Madhok (who had wrested it From the Congress in 1961) and he won with 57 per cent of the valid votes, as against Madhok's 38 per cent. He had been nominated owing to the support ofother refugee representatives within the Congress, notablyJag Pravesh Chandra.60 Generally speaking, the refugees From the North-West Frontier Province tended to maintain their allegiance to the Congress party. They had been close to the party before Partition, not least because Muslim politics in this area had been dominated by Abdul Ghaffar Khan, the so called 'Frontier Gandhi', rather than the Muslim League. Interestingly, the percentage of members of the Metropolitan Council ofDelhi (MCD) who came From westPunjab did notfluctuate in accordance with Jana Sangh election results: in 1967 when the party won a majority, 34 per cent ofits members were From Pakistan; in 1972 when it lost heavily, refugees still represented 33 per cem of the metropolitan councillors; in 1977 when the Janata Party (ofwhich the former Jana Sangh was a m~or component) swept the polIs, the proportion ofrefugees in the MCD dropped to 26 per cent and in 1983 when the Congress party won the elections the proportion ofrefugees stabilized at 25 per cent.66 The Congress retained strong support among Punjabi refugees partly because it was perceived as a Hindu party, but also because Nehru's government helped them a lot. The Ministry of Rehabilitation, established on 6 September 1947, set up tlnee refugee camps: Kingsway, Tibia ColIege (in Karol Bagh) and one in Shahdara. The number of inmates started to decline by mid-1948, which meant that the refugees were finding newjobs and places to live, fi7 largely due to the government's policy. While 1,90,000 refugees were accommodated in houses which had been left by Muslims, 1.2 million were given new houses. ParalIel to these special measures, 4752 shops and stalls were built by the government and local bodies.68 In 1948, a loan of Rs. 42,62,075 was sanctioned for refugees and by March 1952, 1800 of the displaced secured jobs through the employ­ ment exchange set up by the government.69 The refugees who benefited From this rehabilitation scheme were naturally grateful to the Congress government. Malkani himself admits that Nehru's government was very helpful to refugees: The government has done relativelywell. 1would not attack the government on this. There was only one problem: the government was not firm enough with Pakistan. They should have asked for more compensation because the property the Hindus THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 193

left there were about ten times the property left by the Muslims. But apart from that, the government did weil. 1 had no'particular grievance.7o Sorne refugees therefore voted for the Congress because they were not unhappy with the government's policy, but also because they depended on Congressmen for getting things done. Since many of them were traders, they had to ask the government for licences, electricity connections and so on. In Delhi as elsewhere, the Congress could rely on its bargaining power and operated within a framework of clientelism. TheJana Sanghwas thus not 'the party ofthe refugees' because refugees did not vote only for this party and because the party did not recruit its support only from refugees. This pointwas made as early as 1951 during the first local elections to the Delhi Municipal Corporation: although the refugees were just settled and could not take part in great numbers in the poli, the Jana Sangh won one-quarter of the valid votes. This figure reflected the influence the sangh parivar had gained among 'Iocals' after 25 years of groundwork in Delhi. Not surprisingly, its following was especially strong among traders. In the Chandni Chowk unit ofthe party, where, in the 1970s, three-quarters of the office bearers were 'Iocals', 55 per cent of them were Banias and 29 per cent Kshatriyas-prabably Khatris working as business­ men.'1 TheJana Sangh had indeed a strong following among 'Iocals' and if it won a majority of its seats to the Municipal Corporation -in refugee­ dominated constituencies, a substantial number of them were obtained in 'local' Hindu dominated constituencies: 3 out of 9 in 1962, 18 out of 52 in 1967-thefirst elections after KL. Gupta (still very influential in Delhi Sadar), rejoined the Jana Sangh in 1964-and 15 out of 53 in 1974.72 In the 1967 municipal elections in the Sadar district the Jana Sangh won more votes than the Congress (43 per cent as against 41 per cent) in the Hindu 'Iocal'­ dominated wards, partly because itwas able to nominate 'local' candidates.73 In fact, the Jana Sangh was weak only in the rural and the reserved constituencies where the Congress, in contrast, was very strong. One of its main leaders, Brahm Prakash Choudhury, a Yadav, who had been chief minister of Delhi in 1952, was elected to the Outer Delhi seat of the Lok Sabha four times successively from 1962 onwards. The Jana Sangh, by contrast, did not win any rural seat to the Municipal Corporation in 1958 (for the good reason that it had not even fielded a candidate), and won only one in 1962 in Alipur where; interestingly, more than halfofits office-bearers were Punjabi refugees with an urban background. In 1967 itwon4 seats and in 1971,2 seats. 74 The urban bias of the party was still evident in the 1983 elections. So far as reserved seats were concerned, theJana Sangh could not win any seats in Karal Bagh in the 1958 municipal elections largely because it could not attract Scheduled Caste voters in this -dominated constituency. This weakness affected its prospects for a long time since it could win only 4 reserved seats in the elections to the Delhi Municipal Corporation in 1971. Even in the reserved constituencies where it won, theJana Sangh owed its 194 CHRISTOPHE jAFFRELOT

success mainly ta non-Scheduled Caste voters as Saini and Andersen have shown in their detailed study of the voting pattern for the Scheduled Caste seat of Sadar Bazaar.75 The only Jana Sangh representative elected in a reserved and rural constituency in the 1971 municipal elections, S.P. Sumnaskar, defected to the Congress party in 1975 because 'high caste members dominated theJana Sangh and displayed superiority complex and wanted to keep Scheduled Castes members at a distance'. He considered that there was 'no opportunity for those who [were] outside this Punjabi­ Banya alliance' .76 The only Scheduled Caste leaders who remained in the Jana Sangh had an RSS background and had inherited an impulse to 'Sanskritize' from their training. Its successful candidate in Karol Bagh in 1967 (and its unsuccessful candidate in 1971) was an advocate advisor to the AlI India Scheduled Castes Uplift Union, but with an RSS background and the second Jana Sanghi who, after Sumnaskar succeeded in Hinning a reserved and rural seat, Kalka Dass, had a similar profile. He hadjoined the RSS in 1946 in Mehrauli, his birth place, while his father-the headman of several villages-was close to Ambedkar (he called himselfaJ atav) . For Kalka Dass, who won the Mehrauli Municipal Council seat in 1977 and 1983 and the Karol Bagh parliamentary seat in 1989 and 1991 on a BJP ticket, the sangh parivar was the only movement fighting against the caste system on behalfofnationalistic-and therefore supposedly egalitarian-values.77 The Jana Sangh failed to attractScheduled Caste leaderswho had not been trained in the RSS mould and who were truly representative of their group. One may conclude from the aforesaid argument that the Jana Sangh was not so much 'the party of the refugees' as the party of the urban Hindu middle classes. Punjabi refugees did not vote exclusively for theJana Sangh andwhen theydid, itwas not only because theywere refugees butalso because of the political culture they had acquired before 1947 and their ethos and interests as businessmen. Meanwhile many 'locals' voted for theJana Sangh because of an ideological background they had acquired before Partition, and because of their professional activities as merchant castes. Instead of looking at theJana Sangh as 'the party of the refugees' it may then be more relevant to study it as the partyofbusinessmen, provided one includes within this category anybody independently involved in trade, industry (including cottage-industries) and other manufacturing.

FROM THE 'MIDDLE WORLD' TO THE 'OUTER WORLD'? The distinction between 'locals' and refugees is probably less important than the one between businessmen and others. In his study of the 1972 elections to the Delhi Metropolitan Council, Raj Chandidas emphasizes that 'theJana Sangh draws heavily for its supporton petty traders and small businessmen'.7H This description was also true of the Jana Sangh candidates to the Delhi Municipal Corporation and the Delhi Metropolitan Council among whom Banias and Khatris, both merchant castes, represented 42.5 ta 44.5 per cent of the total. While 20 per cent of the members of the council were THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 195

businessmen (as against 22 per centin 196779 ),47 per cent oftheJana Sangh candidates had this background. ManyJana Sangh candidates in 1971 and 1972 were probably Punjabi refugees since most of them were businessmen. The 1971 Census indicates that 31 per cent of these refugees were involved in 'trade and commerce', 16 per centin 'manufacturing, processing, servicing and repairs (other than household industry)', and 11 per cent in 'transport, storage and com­ munication'.8o In 1971, almost 60 per cent of the Punjabi refugees (and even more ifone takes into account the 2 per cent involved in 'construction') belonged to what Bruce Graham has called 'the middle world'-the middle classes, threatened from above by the state's intervention and from below byan increasing awareness of the backward classes.81 Therefore, the Jana Sangh's relative success in Delhi may have less to do with the large refugee population than with its social profile. The 'middle world'-whether among 'locals' or refugees-voted for the party because it defended their interests. Indeed, , the general secretary oftheJana Sangh from 1952 till his death in 1968, never ceased to criticize the Nehruvian view ofa state-owned economy and the Congress' priority towards industrialization. In 1958 he wrote that 'By taking up programmes of heavy industries the [Planning] Commission intended to bring about a structural change in our society.... But we cannot build a pyramid from the top downwards.'82 He

TABLE Il.3. CASTE AND COMMUNllYOFTHEJANASANGH CANDIDATES TO THE DELHI MUNICIPAL CORPORATION IN 1971 AND TO THE DELHI METROPOLITAN COUNCIL IN 1972

Castes and communities 1971 % 1972 %

UPPER G.\STES 54 62 32 59.3 Brahmin 11 12.6 7 13.0 Bania 18 20.7 Il 20.4 Khatri 19 21.8 13 24.1 Arora 5 5.7 Other 1 1.1 1 1.8 INTERMEDIATE CASrES 2 2.3 2 3.7 Jat 2 2.3 2 3.7 OTHER BACKWARD CLASSES 11 12.6 5 9.3 Gujjar 5 5.7 2 3.7 Yadav 4 4.6 2 3.7 Saini/Mali 1 1.1 Julaha 1 1.1 1.8 Other SCHEDULED CASrF.5 6 6.9 2 3.7 SIKH 1 1.9 MUSLIM 1.2 1 1.9 EUROPEANS! ANGLo-lNDIANS NON-IDENTIFIED! OTIIER 13 15 11 20.4 TOTAL 87 100 54 100

Source: Interviews with ~JP and Jana Sangh old limers. 196 CHRISTOPHE jAFFRELOT

TABLE liA. OCCUPATIONAL BACKGROUND OF THEJANA SANGH CANDIDATES TO THE DELHI MUNICIPAL CORPORATION IN 197I

Occupalion Absolule numbers %

Agriculturist 6 6.9 Lawyer 4 4.6 Medical profession 4 4.6 Business 41 47.2 Executive/employee 4 4.6 Teacher/Principal 6 6.9 Journalist 3 3.5 Trade unionist/Social worker 2 2.3 Politician/Pracharak 2 2.3 Landlord 1 1.2 Unknown 13 14.9 TOTAL 87 100

Source: Interviews with BJP andJana Sangh old timers. criticized me lack ofinvestmentin'decentralised small scale industry' which, in his view should have been the main route to economic development.8~ From 1951, the Jana 5angh advocated a division of tasks between the state (which would run heavy industry) and the private seetor: the production of consumer goods, for instance, would be reserved for the latter, and the state would be required to prevent economic conglomeration so that famity enterprises might flourish.84 TheJana 5angh tried to defend me 1,00,000 small-scale enterprises of India in a very concrete way. It objected to the imposition of sales taxes which hampered the functioning of these enterprises. In 1958, merchants were forced to accept the establishment ofstate control over the grain trade, a measure intended to reduce inflationary shortages by promoting a centralized regional distribution ofthe produce. TheJana 5angh condemned this decision, arguing that it would lead to the nationalization of small businesses85 and the disappearance of 30,000 wholesalers and 3 millions retailers.86 Thus, those who belonged to me 'middle world' could be attracted to theJana 5angh simply because ofits right-wing agenda. The over-representation ofthe 'middle world' in the ranks ofthe Hindu nationalist party remained true in 1983 within the Delhi Municipal Corporation: while this institution had 20 per cent of businessmen, the BJP group had 60 per cent. _ Ten years later, the over-representation of the l!pper castes in the BJP was still very much in evidence, as testified by the large number of upper­ caste candidates, especially Banias and Khatris, fielded by the party during the 1993 state assembly elections. While the Congress nominated almost as many upper-caste candidates (mough more Brahmins than Banias) as the BJP, it also nominated a larger number ofJat candidates, a sign of the rural reach of the Congress in Outer Delhi. The larger number ofJat candidates in the Congress is of course THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 197

TABLE 11.5. OCCUPATIONAL BACKGROUND OF THE BJP MEMBERS OF THE DELHI MUNICIPAL CORPORATION ELECTED IN 1983

Occupation BJP %

Agriculturist 3 8.6 Lawyer 2 5.7 Business 21 60.0 Ex·<:ivil servant 1 2.9 Teacher 4 lIA Trade unionist/Social worker 2 5.7 Unknown/Other 2 5.7 TOTAL 35 100

Source: Interviews with local cadres and office bearers in the office of the Delhi Pradesh BJP. congruent with the larger proportion of agriculturists among its assembly candidates. However, the share ofbusinessmen-byfar the largest-is slightly more important within the Congress, whereas in the BJP, the teachers are second to the businessmen with more than Il per cent (see Table Il.7). The social composition of the BJP Delhi State Executive suggests that the party is slowly promotingJats in its apparatus since theJat share ofseats grew slightly between 1993 and 1995 at the expense ofthe upper castes. The erosion of high-caste seats is especially marked among the Brahmins. However, the proportion of Other Backward Classes and Scheduled Castes in the party structure remains nominal. The social profile of the office-bearers of the district and local units of the BJP and the Congress show a similar picture. Ali in ail, the BJP remained slightly more Punjabi, more urban and more elitist (from the caste point of view at least) than the Congress, and by and large as business-{)riented as the latter but then the differences between both parties are often not significant. AEter winning the 1993 assemblyelections, the BJP appointed Madan Lai Khurana as chief minister, who was clearly representative of this milieu. Khuranajoined the RSS in 1943, in Lyallpur in west Punjab, even before he was a teenager. His family, Khatri by caste, migrated toJammu after Partition and then settled in Delhi. M.L. Khurana, who used to live in , started his career as a teacher with a modest income ofRs. 400 per month till 1967, the year when he was first elected member of the Metropolitan Council. He then set up a goods truck transport and bus company.B7 Khurana is, therefore, typical of the post-Partition sangh parivarleadership, made up of upper-caste teachers and/or businessmen from Punjab. He became general secretary of the DelhiJana Sangh in 1965 and kept this charge till 1975. ln 1977 he was elected executive councillor of Delhi and in 1980, general secretary of the Delhi branch of the BJP of which he became the president in 1985. He was succeeded by , another Khatri teacher from Punjab, but in 1993 was elected chief minister when the BJP won the elections. Khurana had to resign in February 1996 owing to his alleged involvement 198 CHRISTOPHE JAFFRELOT

TABLE 11.6. CASTE AND COMMUNIlYBACKGROUND OF THE BJP AND CONGRESS CANDIDATES TO THE ASSEMBLYELECTIONS IN 1993

Casles and communities BfP % Congress %

UPPER c""sus 33 47.1 26 35.7 Brahmin 8 lIA Il 15.1 Rajput 3 4.3 Bania Il 15.7 4 5.5 Khatri 9 12.9 9 12.3 Arora l lA Other 2 2.9 l lA INTER.\lEDIATE CASTES 9 12.9 15 20.5 Jat 9 12.9 15 20.5 OTIIER BACKWARD CLASSES 7 8.6 5 6.8 Gujjar 2 2.7 Yadav l lA 3 4.1 Jhangi 4 5.7 Soni l lA Other l lA SCI IEDULED CASTES 13 18.6 13 17.8 SIKII 1 1.4 1 1.4 MUSLIM 3 4.3 1 1.4 WROPEAl'iS/ANGLD-INDIM,S NON-mENTIFIED/OTIIER 5 7.1 12 16.4 TOTAL 70 100 73 100

Source: Interviews in the party offices. in the 'hawala affair'. His successor, Sahib Singh Verma. was from a different background. An RSS activist since childhood, he had worked as a coUege librarian till 1993. Verma, aJat from the periphery ofDelhi and unlike most Jats not a farmer, was put in charge ofrural development and education in Khurana's cabinet. While Verma was probably appointed for a variety of other reasons such as powerequationswithin the party, the Delhi BJP certainly chose him partly in order to expand its social base in Outer Delhi where it used to be very weak. In August 1997, Verma commissioned a survey to identify more OBCs in Delhi. Press reports suggested that it was aimed at trying to include new castes, such as theJats and theJaiswals in this category.88 Indeed the BJP may weil be tempted to play 'the aBC card', from which it might be able to derive electoral dividends in the post-Mandai context.

CONCLUSION WRiie the coming to Delhi of hundreds of thousands of refugees after Partition helps to explain the Jana Sangh's electoral fortunes in the capital as early as 1951, itis not in itselfa sufficient explanation. Many ofthe Punjabis who settled in Delhi may weil have voted for the Jana Sangh because they had lost everything after Partition, a catastrophe they attributed to the Congress. But others, especially those from the NWFP, stiU preferred the ruling Congress party because they perceived it as a Hindu party anyway and TABLE 11.7. OCCUPATIONAL BACKGROUND OF THE BJP AND CONGRESS CANDIDATES TO THE ASSEMBLYELECTIONS IN 1993

Occupation BJP % Congress %

Agriculturist 8 11.4 10 14.3 Lawyer 3 4.3 Medical professions 4 5.7 2 2.9 Business 28 40.0 29 41.4 Ex-civil servant/Service/Engineer 3 4.3 4- 5.7 Teacher/Principal 8 lIA 3 4.3 Journalist/Writer 1 lA 3 4.3 Trade unionist/Social worker 5 7.2 13 18.6 Politician 6 8.6 Landlord 1 1.4 Unknown/Other 6 8.6 3 4.3 TOTAL 70 100 70 100

Sauree: Interviews in the party offices.

TABLE 11.8. CASTE BACKGROUND OF THE BJP DELHI STATE EXECUTIVE AND OF THE DELHI CONGRESS PRADESH COMMITTEE

Castes and communities . BJP % BJP % Gong Gong 1993 1995 1992 1994

UPPER CASTES 99 70.8 63 69.2 Il 6 Brahmin 33 23.6 12 13.2 3 2 Rajput 2 1.4 3 3.3 1 Bania 28 20.0 21 23.1 4 1 Khatri 32 22.9 21 23.1 3 3 Kayastha 3 2.1 Other 1 0.7 6 6.6 INTERMEDIATE CASTES 5 3.6 8 8.8 2 2 Jat 5 3.6 8 8.8 2 2 OTHER RACKWARD CLASSES 12 8.6 3 3.3 Gujjar 6 4.3 Saini 1.1 Julaha 0.7 Other 1 1.1 SCHEDULED CASTES 12 8.6 6 6.6 5 SIKH 3 2.1 1 1.1 1 MUSLlM 4 2.9 7 7.7 3 1 NON-lDENTlFIED / ornER 5 3.6 3 3.3 TOTAL 140 100 91 100 26 JO

Sou.ree: Interviews in the party offices. 200 CHRISTOPHE ]AFFRELOT

depended on it for rehabilitation. The Punjabi refugees who opted for the Jana Sangh often did so because they had already been won over by the RSS in Punjab where the movement had grown rapidly in the 1940s. In other words, the trauma ofPartition acted not to convert them to right-wing Hindu politics but to reconfirm their existing inclination. More important, the base of the Janp. Sangh was never confined to Punjabi refugees. The party also recruited strong support from 'local' businessmen, partly because ofthe early groundwork ofthe RSS and, before that, the Arya Samaj. In fact, theJana Sangh and the BJP were probably less parties ofrefugees than parties oftraders-Banias and Khatris (a caste whose members are often engaged in commercial activities). This interpretation is an the more convincing as about one-third ofthe refugees started businesses in Delhi. However, the social profile of the BJP cadres and MLAs is not significantly different from that of the Congress equivalents, even though the Jana Sangh and the BJP have perhaps been more consistently and constantlyelitist. Today, the BJP seems eager to expand its base in the rural periphery of the Delhi state where the Hindu nationalist movement has always been weak. The selection of à Jat, Sahib Singh Verma as chief minister in 1996, may be analysed in this perspective and the inclusion ofhis arch rival, M.L. Khurana, in Vajpayee's government might have been an attempt to remove him from the local scene. However, Verma's own dismissal shortly before the 1998 state assembly elections and his replacement by (a Brahmin) have antagonized the rural voters of the Delhi state. The resignation of Khurana from Vajpayee's government in early 1999 has also heralded his return to local Delhi politics. In October-November 1999, he contested an MP seat. Interestingly, Sahib Singh Verma was also nominated by the BJP to contest in Outer Delhi, a Jat-.dominated constituency where the party had oniy fielded upper-caste candidates tin then. Both ofthem won their seat. In fact an the BJP candidates won the seven seats of Delhi for the first time, a reconfirmation of the party's traditional influence in this olcl stronghold of Hindu nationalism.

NOTES

This research would not have been possible without financial support from the ORSTOM­ CNRS programme and the constant help of Mrs Bhalla from the Centre of Human Sciences (New Delhi) who collected sorne of the data presented in the last part of this essay. 1 am also most grateful to Dipankar Gupta for his comments as discussant of my paper. Certain nuances and insights can be attributed to him. !'would also like to thank Dirubhai Seth for his constructive remarks following the oral presentation of this paper.

1. The Slalesman (Delhi), 29 September 1954, p. 1. 2. Delhi Gazel/.eer, New Delhi: Delhi Administration, 1976, p. 972. 3. K.Jones, 'Organized Hinduism in Delhi and New Delhi', in R.E. Frykenberg (ed.), Delhi Through IheAges, Delhi: OUP, 1986, rpL1993, p. 203. 4. D. Gupta, The Conlexl ofElhnicily, Delhi: OUP, 1997, p. 21. 5. K.R. Malkani, The RSS 5101)', New Delhi: Biblia Impex, 1980, p. 43. THE HINDU NATIONALIST MOVEMENT IN DELHI 201

6. Interview with Vasant Raô Oke, 12 August 1992, New Delhi. 7. Savarkar Papers, Reel no. 3, File no. l, Letter of 27 July 1936, NMML (Nehru Museum & Memorial Library). 8. Ibid., Reel no. 4, File no. l, Letter ofPadam RajJain to Savarkar, 29 November 1936, and interview with Y.R. Oke. 9. In fact the building of this office was, like the temple, financed byJugal Kishore Birla who acted as a traditional patron in both cases. 10. Interview with Ratan Bhattacharya, 6 November 1997, . II. Max MueHer convincingly defines notables as persons '(1) whose economic position permits them to hold continuous policy-making and administrative positions in an organization without (more than nominal) remuneration; (2) who enjoy social prestige ofwhatever derivation in such a manner that they are likely to hold office in virtue of the members' confidence, which at first is given and then traditionaHy accorded' (Economy and Society, New York: Bedminster Press, 1988, p. 290). 12. Interview with V.R. Oke. 13. Interview with Ratan Bhattacharya. He was elected in the Lai Darwaza-Suiwalan ward on aJana Sangh ticket in the 1958 Delhi municipal elections. 14. Ramashankar Mishra, 'Jivan vritt', in VinayAur Vivek, Delhi: Sri Hansraj GuptaAbhinandan­ Prant Samaroh Samiti Prakashan, 1972, pp. 1-11. 15. Hans Raj Gupta's reminiscences in ibid., p. 26 and interviewwith his son, Rajendra Gupta, 25 February 1995, New Delhi. 16. Interview with Y.R. Oke. 17. See, for instance, D.E. Haynes, 'From Tribute to Philanthropy: the Politics ofGift Giving in a Western Indian City', TheJournal ofAsian Studies, 46 (2), May 1987. 18. CA. Bayly, 'Patrons and Clients in Northern India', Modern Asian Sludies, 7(3), 1973, pp. 349-88. 19. C.A. Bayly, Local Rools ofIndian Politics, Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1975. 20. Organiser, Varshapratipada Special, 1979, p. 13. 21. B.R. Gupta. The Aggarwa/s, New Delhi: S. Chand, 1975, p. 85. 22. Ibid., p. 130. 23. Census ofhuiia, Delhi, vol. 16, Lahore: Civil and Military Gazette Press, 1933, p. 120. 24. l-ensUS ofhuiia, Punjah Census Report, 1891, p. 172 and 1911, p. 138. 25. See P. Tandon, Banking Century. A Short History ofBanking in India and the Pioneer: Punjah National Bank, New Delhi: Penguin Books, 1989, pp. 152-4. 26. P.H.M. Van Den Dungen, 'Changes in Status and Occupation in 19th Century Punjab', in DA. Low (ed.), Soundings in Modern South Asian Hisiory, Berkeley: University of California Press, 1968, p. 75. 27. Ibid., p. 81. 28. N.G. Barrier, 'TheArya Samaj and Congress Politics in the Punjab-1894-1904', TheJournal ofAsian Studies, 26(3), May 1967, p. 364. 29. 1 am grateful to Dipankar Gupta for this comment. 30. Interview with Rajendra Gupta. 31. Y.N. Datta, 'Panjabi Refugees and the Urban Development of Greater Delhi', in R.E. Frykenberg (ed.), Delhi Through the Ages, Delhi: OUP, 1993, p. 288. 32. Re/Jort of the Commission ofInquiry into Conspiracy ta Murder Mahatma Gandhi, Part 2, New Delhi: Government ofIndia, 1970, p. 66. 33. In Kingsway Camp, for instance, he had been criticized for reading excerpts of the Koran to refugees. Pyarelal, Mahatma Gandhi-The last phase, vol. 2, Ahmedabad: Navajivan Publishing House, 1957, p. 441. 34. Report of the Commission of Inquiry into Conspiracy ta Murder Mahatma Gandhi, Part l, New Delhi: Government ofIndia, 1970, p. 141. 35. Ibid., Part 2, p. 57 and Hindu Mahasabha Papers (NMML-Manuscript section) C-160 Press Statement, dated 18January 1948. 36. Interview with Hardayal Devgun, 17 October 1995; New Delhi. 37. Interview with B. Madhok, 10 November 1990, New Delhi. 202 CHRISTOPHE jAFFRELOT

38. B. Madhok, RSS and Polities, New Delhi: Hindu World Publications, 1985, p. 23. 39. Interview with Bhai Mahavir, 4 September 1992, New Delhi. 40. An organization supported by the RSS and close to the Dogras (Hindu landlords), the Praja Parishad was the first incarnation of theJana Sangh in Jammu and Kashmir. 41. Oral History Transcript, interview with M.C. Sharma (Hindi), NMML, pp. 154, 162 and 175. 42. Sunday M:ws of fndia, 30July 1950, pp. 1 and 3. 43. B. Madhok, RSS and Politics, op. cit., p. 50. 44. Organiser, JO September 1951, p. 14. 45. G. Puri, Bhamtiya Tana Sangh-Organisation and fdeology: Delhi, A Case Study, New Delhi: Sterling, 1980, p. 27. 46. The Times offndia, 5 January 1955, p. 3. 47. Interview with K.N. Sahni, 20 November 1990, New Delhi. 48. Malkani, a swayamasevak since 1942, had settled in Delhi inJanuary 1948, arriving from Hyderabad (Sindh). Hejoined the Organiserin October.l948.lnterviews with KR. Malkani, 16 November 1989 and Il August 1992, New Delhi. 49. Interview with L.K. Advani, II February 1994, New Delhi. 50. Organiser, 1January 1948, p. 7 and 8 January 1948, p. 9 and Hitavada, 9 January 1948. 51. Interview with Y.K Malhotra, New Delhi, 24 November 1990. 52. The sangh parivarwas especially active and reasonably successful among students ofDelhi University after Partition. In July 1948, Madhok founded the Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad in Delhi, which became the first affiliate of the RSS. 53. G. Puri, The BhamtiyaJana Sangh, op. cit., p. 63. 51. R.N. Saksena, Refugees-A Study in Changing Attitudes, Bombay: Asia Publishing House, p.21. 55. Yogesh Puri, Party Politics in the Nehru Em-A Study ofCongress in Delhi, New Delhi: National Books Organisation, 1993, p. 186. 56. G. Puri, Th/! BhamtiyaJana Sangh, op. cit., p. 154. 57. Y.L. Pandit, Elites and Urban Polities-A Case Study of Delhi, New Delhi: Inter-India Publications, 1984, p. 58. 58. 'Notes on the Volunteer Movement in India', prepared by the Intelligence Bureau, 27 January 1940 and 23 August 1940, in L/P&J/Coli. 17-C 81 10LR. 59. J.A. Curran, Militant Hinduism in fndian Polities-A Study of the RSS, Institute of Pacific Relations, 1951 (duplicated), pp. 14 and 43. 60. Hardayal Devgun, who was to be elected MP in east Delhi in 1967 on aJana Sangh ticket and who had joined the RSS in Lahore to become a praehamk in 1940, said that 'he organized the Hindus against Muslim rioters' but underlines that his 'people attacked Muslim shops and so on' when they heard a false rumour suggesting that f had been kilLed (Interview with H.D. Devgun). 61. Constituent Assembly Debates, New Delhi: Lok Sabha Secretariat, 1989, vol. VII, p. 899. 62. S.P. Sen (ed.), Dietionary of National BiogratJhy, Calcutta: Institute of Historical Studies, 1973, vol. l, p. 175. 63. The Arya Samaj people at large distanced themselves from theJana Sangh in the 1950s. Immediately after Partition, the RSS and the Arya Samaj had advocated the formation of a Creater Punjab, amalgamating PEPSU (Patiala and East Punjab States Union), Himachal Pradesh and east Punjab, with Hindi as its officiallanguage-something the Sikhs could not accept. The Delhi-Punjab unit of the Jana Sangh adopted a much more moderate position by conceding that Punjabi and Hindi should be recognized as the languages for education and administration. Furthermore, in support ofthe notion ofa Creater Punjab, the party alleged that Punjabi, which the Akali Dal considered peculiar to the west of the province-a region they wanted to separate off for themselves-was in fact spoken throughout. This cause and its supporting arguments were highly unpopular with the Arya Samajists who regarded Hindi as the sole language ofthe eastern part ofthe province where they were in a majority and who at times aspired to hive off this region from the western half of Punjab and have Del hi as its capital. The Delhi Jana Sangh could attract strong public support from the Arya Samaj only in 1967 when its president, Hardayal THE HINDU NATIüNALIST MüVEMENT IN DELHI 203

Devgun, persuaded R.S. Shawlwale, a prominent local Arya Samajist to contest in Chandni Chowk as aJana Sangh candidate. 64. Moonje Papers NMML (Microfilm Section), Reel no. 9, Letter from Moonje to the Secretary of theJoint Select Parliamentary Committee (dated 10July 1933). 65. Jag Parvesh Chandra, who arrived in Delhi on 17 August 1947 from Lahore where he had worked as a journalist since 1938, was inducted into the ruling party by Rajendra Prasad. He was elected to the Legislative Assembly in 1952 and ended up as Chief Executive Councillor from 1983-90. 66. K.N. Seth and G.C. Malhotra, Delhi MetTOpolitan Council-A study (1966-1989), Delhi: Metropo1itan CounciJ, 1989, p. 127. 67. V.N. Datta, 'Panjabi Refugees', op. cil., p. 290. 68. Ibid., p. 292. 69. Ibid., p. 294. 70. Interview with K.R. Malkani. 71. G. Puri, The BharatiyaJana Sangh, op. cil., pp. 80-1. 72. Ibid., pp. 158-75. 73. M.K. Saini and W.Andersen, 'The Congress Split in Delhi', AsianSurvey, 11(11), November' 1971, pp. 1084-1100. 74. Ibid., pp. 84, 92 and 158-75. 75. N.K. Saini and W. Andersen, 'The BastiJ ulahan bye-e1ection', The IndianJaurnal ofPolitical Science,July-September 1969, pp. 266-76. 76. Cited in G. Puri, The BharatiyaJana Sangh, op. cil., p. 57. 77. Interview with Kalka Dass, 23 November 1990, New Delhi. 78. R. Chandidas, 'Elections to Delhi Metropolitan Couneil-An Analysis of Electoral and Ecological Variables', Economie and Political Weekly, p. 970. 79. K.N. Seth and G.C. Malhotra (eds) , Delhi Metmpolitan Caunci~ op. cil. Kilawat gives somewhat different ftgures: 33 per cent of businessmen and 15 per cent teachers in the 1972 Delhi Metropolitan Council. S.C. Kilawat, The Government of the Federal Capital ofIndia (Delhi), Jaipur: Publication Scheme, n.d., p. 268. 80. Census 1971-Delhi, General Report, p. 96. 81. B. Graham, Hindu Nationalism and Indian Politics, Cambridge: CUP, 1990, p. 165. 82. D. Upadhyaya, The Two Plans-Promises, Performances, Prospects, Lucknow: Rashtradharma Prakashan, 1958, p. 258. 83. Ibid., p. 268. 84. 'Manifesto-1951', in BharatiyaJana Sangh, Party Documents, vol. l, New Delhi, 1973, p.52. 85. Hinduslan Times, 8 March 1959, pp. 1-2. 86. Resolution passed at the party's annual session, 28 December 1958 (Party Documents, vol. 2, op. cil., p. 163). 87. Hardayal Devgun, Corruption and BharatiyaJanata Parly, New Delhi: Democratie Vigilance Committee, n.d., p. 6 and interview with M.L. Khurana, 8 December 1990. 88. The Times ofIndia, 25July 1997.

12

Political Profile of Delhi and Support Bases of Parties: An Analysis

V.B. SINGH

Invaders have come and gone and yet Delhi continues to attract people. This is not to comment on history nor meant to add a further footnote to the biography of Delhi, but rather to refer to the problem of the unabated influx ofpeople rolling into Delhi. Registering a very rapid growth, Delhi's population has gone up by more than six times, from a mere 17,44,072 in 1951 to 94,20,644 in 1991 and must by now have reached 12 million. A spiralling increase in the population residing in siums and ghettos; mounting pressure on already overcrowded residential areas; congested streets and choked markets; and a host of problems resulting from ail of these have made Dilliwallas (the residents ofDelhi) a miserable lot. Lack ofimaginative planning and an indifferent administration have aggravated the problem further. In brief, Delhi is fast becoming a chaotic place to live, and yet this does not deter new migrants from coming in. Unlike earlier invaders, today's newcomers have come not for loot nor with the lust to rule but only to earn their livelihood, in the hope ofimproving their chances in life by coming to the capital. The purpose of this essay is not to discuss civic amenities. Neither is it intended to find faults with the planning and administrative wings of the Delhi government. 1 have referred to these only to show how vulnerable the city of Delhi has become due to its ability to attract people from ail parts of the country. The natUre and composition ofits population is changing very fast. About 1,00,000 people come to reside in Delhi every year. While promises of opportunities pull people to Delhi, the living conditions, marred by the acute shortage of civic amenities for most in-migrants, remain far from satisfactory. The 'dream land' ofDelhi has become a nightmare. Earn~ng a livelihood is perhaps easier here than finding a decent shelter. Despite aU this, people still keep streaming into Delhi, struggling to survive and trying to improve their chances in life.' Though they have the pride ofresiding in the capital, very few of them actually become DilliwaUas-people who live and feel as if they really belong to Delhi. Even though most people come to Delhi through existing primordial 206 V.B. SINGH ties and linkages, the moment they settle in they begin a fresh search for identity. Their perception of the outside world changes. Like water seeking its own level, individuals become members of one group or the other. Reference points also begin to change. Irrespective of people's native backgrounds their views and attitudes are, by and large, affected by the surroundings they live in. Delhi, with nearly halfofits population consisting ofin-migrants, constantly faces this problem. Though the formation ofnew groups or divisions into older ones inevitably occurs in all societies, in Delhi these changes take place at an alarming rate. Groups are formed or broken on the strangest of grounds. Think of any issue and one can find groups formed around il. These informaI groups which are hardly visible in the normal course get activated during elections. From a state ofanonymity the members ofsuch groups are suddenly transformed to realize their citizenship by leaders who would hardly take notice ofthem as citizens when approached for the redressaI ofproblems at any other time. While a large part ofDelhi's population suffers from disabilities to the extent it is forced to live under subhuman conditions/ there are other people whose interests are always pampered. In brief, the composition of Delhi's population is very diverse; disparity in every sphere oflife is very wide and the system's response, be it government, political parties or local representatives, is partisan and selective. Despite all ofthese factors there exists a feeling ofoneness to the extent that all are residents of Delhi and relationships with the outside world and the system have to be mediated through this fact. ln view of these factors 1 decided to use the occasion of the 1996 Lok Sabha elections (elections to the House of People, i.e. Parliamentary elections) to capture sorne of these peculiarities of the National Capital Territory and to see the extent to which voters' views and attitudes are affected by lhem. Do people living in different localities of Delhi behave differenùy or is it their native origin that makes the difference? Which of these two contextual situations (present locality or native origin) is more important in determining a person's behaviour particularly during the elections? Before seeking answers to these and sorne other system-related questions, 1 shall begin by presenting a brief description of Delhi's population followed by details ofall the Lok Sabha and Vidhan Sabha (state legislature, i.e. assembly) constituencies ofDelhi. Here, 1shall attempt to characterize constituencies in terms of their electoral size, the composition of localities, literacy, work­ force, etc., and to see if any voting patterns are discernible from them. Aggregate descriptions of constituencies and trends emerging from them will also be compared with the data collected through the 1996 survey of Lok Sabha elections. While the survey findings help explain the preferences ofDelhi voters, they will also be used to examine sorne long-term questions concerning the system. That is, given the material conditions ofDelhi voters, how do theyevaluate the functioning of governments at different levels? Whatviews do they hold about different institutions and the actors associated with them? What hopes and fears do they have for themselves and their children? And, finally, how do all of these relate to the issues ofgovernance and the sustenance ofdemocracy? POLITICAL PROFILE OF DELHI 207

COMPOSITION OF DELHI'S POPULATION Registering nearly a 2 pel' cent (1.98 pel' cent) decadal growth in its population, the National Capital Territory ofDelhi at the beginning of the twentieth century was a quiet place. Between 1901 and 1911 it registered a slow increase in population, from 4,05,819 to 4,13,851. However, with the transfer of the capital from Calcutta to Delhi in 1911, the city's population began to increase at a much faster rate, witnessing decadal growth rates of 18.0 pel' cent, 30.3 pel' cent and 44.3 pel' cent during the periods 1911-21, 1921-31 and 1931-41 respectively. From 1941 to 1951 Delhi almost doubled its population, increasing from 9,17,939 persons in 1941 to 17,44,072 in 1951-a growth rate ofover 90 pel' cent. Such a steep rise during the 1941­ 51 decade can ofcourse be attributed in part to the mass influx ofrefugees fol1owing Partition. However, a steady growth rate of 52.4 pel' cent during 1951-61; of 52.9 pel' cent during 1961-71; of 53.0 pel' cent during 1971-81 and of 51.5 pel' cent during 1981-91 can only be explained in terms of the gravitating influence that radiates from the National Capital Region ofDelhi. The proportion of in-migrant population was, not surprisingly, the highest in 1951. According to the 1951 Census only 41 pel' cent of its total population were 'born in Delhi' with the remaining 59 pel' cent registered as 'migrants'. Roughly half of the total migrants (Le. 47 pel' cent) came to Delhi as refugees from Pakistan fol1owing Partition. Thereafter the share of the native population (those born in Dèlhi) shows an increase in every successive census year. That is, persons born in Delhi increased to 44 pel' cent, 52 pel' cent, 55 pel' cent and 61 pel' cent during the periods 1951-61, 1961-71,1971-81 and 1981-91 respectively. Consequently, the migrants' share in Delhi's population has declined. Butalthough this represents a downward trend in percentage terms, a look at the same figures in absolute terms shows an increase ofabout 1,00,000 in-migrants to Delhi every year. For example, between 1981 and 1991 Delhi added 8,90,172 more migrants to its total population. As far as the proportion of migrants from different regions/states is concerned, the northern region accounts for most of the migrants to Delhi. As much as four-fifths ofthem come from this region alone, ofwhich 57 pel' centare from Uttar Pradesh. In order ofsignificance, the states ofHaryana', Bihar, Rajasthan and Punjab account for the remaining migrants from the northern region. Migrants from the western, southern and eastern and north­ eastern regions do not constitute a large proportion but nevertheless there are 1,31,636, 1,25,719, and 1,06,491 migrants from these regions respectively (see figures for 1991 Census in Table 12.1). Moreover their share in Delhi's in-migrant population has been increasing in every subsequent census year. The in-migrant population reported in Table 12.1 includes only those not born in Delhi. This figure does not include the offspring of migrants who, though born in Delhi, are often socialized in families and neighbourhoods which retain socio-political values similar to those held in their parents' places oforigin. Hence, when broad categories ofidentification like Bihari, UPwal1a (persons from Uttar Pradesh), Rajasthani, Punjabi and TABLE 12.1. IN-MIGRANT POPULATION OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRITORYOF DELHI, 1951-91

1951 1961 1971 1981 1991

Total population 17,44,072 26,58,612 40,65,698 62,20,406 94,20,644 Born in Delhi 717,310 Il,59,958 21,04,876 33,99,684 57,09,750 (41.1) (43.6) (51.8) (54.6) (60.6) Total in-migrant 1,026,762 1,498,654 1,960,822 28,20,722 37,10,894 (58.9) (56.4) (48.2) . (45.4) (39.4)

Distribution of in-migrants from different regions and states1

North 5,08,522 8,84,664 13,06,078 20,93,230 29,69,315 (49.5) (59.0) (66.6) (74.2) (80.0)

Bihar 1,303 9,723 23,012 96,902 2,67,567 (0.1 ) (0.7) (1.2) (3.4) (7.2) Uttar Pradesh 2,62,098 4,21,220 6,73,241 11,71,404 17,04,197 (25.5) (28.1) (34.3) (41.5) (45.9) Punjab' 1,89,417 3,40,604 1,86,904 2,18,729 2,35,142 (18.5) (22.7) (9.5) (7.8) (6.3) Haryana' 2,33,831 3,43,657 4,40,275 (11.9) (12.2) (11.9) Rajasthan 48,592 94,902 1,36,413 1,90,415 2,31,856 (4.7) (6.3) (7.0) (6.8) (6.3)

West 20,007 30,111 51,677 1,00,309 1,31,636 (1.9) (2.0) (2.6) (3.6) (3.5)

East & 6,466 18,144 31,211 61,657 10,6491 North East (0.6) (1.2) (1.6) (2.2) (2.9)

South 7,977 38,806 64,032 96,426 12,5719 (0.8) (2.6) (3.3) (3.4) (3.4)

Pakistan 4,79,744 5,08,490 4,87,289 4,26,948 3,20,210 (46.7) (33.9) (24.9) (15.1) (8.6)

Other countries 4,046 (0.4) 18,439 (1.2) 20,535 (1.0) 42,152 (1.5) 57,523 (1.6)

Nous: 1. States included in different regions are: North: Bihar, Haryana, Himachal Pradesh, Jammu & Kashmir, Rajasthan, Uttar Pradesh, Chandigarh; West: Gujarat, Goa, , Maharashtra and Daman & Diu; East & North East: Assam, West Bengal, Orissa, Tripura, Nagaland, Meghalaya, Manipur, Mizoram, Sikkim and Arunachal Pradesh; South: Andhra Pradesh, Karnataka, Kerala, Tamil Nadu, Pondicherry, A & N. Island, Dadra & Nagar Haveli and Lakshdweep. 2. Including Pepsu (Patiala and East Punjab States Union) in 1951. 3. Tin 1961 the state of Haryana was part of Punjab. Percentages are indicated in brackets. SOU1"Ct!: Census ofIndia, Migration Tables (Table D-l) ofl961, 1971, 1981 and 1991, Series l, India. POUTICAL PROFILE OF DELHI 209

Madrasi are used, they include not only the people originating from these geographical areas but also their offsprings who were often born in Delhi. ln this sense, non-Dilliwallas form a much larger social group than the census figures imply. Later in my analyses 1 shall try to identify the elements of this social group and to examine the political pref<;rences ofpeople from different regions.

PROFILE OF DELHI LOK SABHA CONSTITUENCIES Delhi has had seven Lok Sabha constituencies since 1967. Earlier, in the 1957 and 1962 elections, there were five constituencies and in the first Lok Sabha election held in 1952 theywere only four. Tables 12.2 and 12.3 present the social and political profiles of these constituencies respectively. The rapid growth in population and the unplanned expansion of residential areas wherever possible, have made Delhi Lok Sabha consti­ tuencies very uneven in size. While constituencies like Chandni Chowk, New Delhi, Sadar and Karol Bagh (reserved for Scheduled Castes), with very little scope of geographical expansion, have remained more or less static in size, the rest have become very large. A comparison between Chandni Chowk (5,33,844 persons) and Outer Delhi (28,78,023 persons) reveals a gap of 23,44,179 persons according to the 1991 Census. Apan from nUlherical size, these constituencies vary in terms of socia­ economic composition as weil. For example, with 72 per cent literates, the constituencyofEast Delhi is placed on the lowest educational rung as against the highest of82 per cent in South Delhi. Interestingly, South Delhi also has th~ lowest proportion of Scheduled Castes. On the other hand, East Delhi, which has maximum number ofilliterates, also has the largest share ofnon­ working population, thereby indicating a greater degree of unemployment and dependency ratio which characterizes the constituency as poorer than others.

TABLE 12.2. SOCIAL PROFILE OF LOK SABHA CONSTlTUENClES IN DELHI

Narneof Population % of % of % of Constituency Literates Scheduled warkers (6 yrs +) Caste Total Male Female

1. New Delhi 6,70,475 79.1 17.3 35.2 29.8 5.4 2. South Delhi 13,48,698 81.6 12.9 34.5 29.4 5.1 3. Outer Delhi 28,78,023 72.6 22.2 30.1 27.4 3.0 4. East Delhi 26,48,659 71.8 19.8 29.3 27.1 2.3 5. Chandni Chowk 5,33,844 73.5 13.9 32.0 29.6 2.4 6. Delhi Sadar 6,69,945 79.2 15.2 32.7 29.7 3.0 7. Karal Bagh 6,71,002 76.6 28.7 33.1 29.6 3.5 TOTAL 94,20,646 75.0 19.3 31.5 28.2 3.3

Sou l'œ: Census of lndia, 1991, 210 V.B. SINGH

As compared to voters located in far-flung areas of the countryside, Delhi's voters until recently showed a greater degree of participation in elections ever since universal adult franchise was first introduced in India. In the very first general election of 1952, Delhi registered a 58 pel' cent voter turnout as against the national average ofa mere 46 pel' cent. With the subsequent increase in the national average, the level of participation in Delhi has also increased. Turnout figures in Delhi remained higher than the national average in ail elections held until 1984. In 1989, when the franchise was expanded by lowering the qualifying age from 21 to 18 years, Delhi for the first time registered a lower turnout (54 pel' cent) than the national average (62 pel' cent). Thereafter, it has not touched the national average. In both the 1996 and 1998 Lok Sabha elections, Delhi fell behind the national average by about 7 pel' cent and 12 pel' cent respectively. The inclusion of younger voters in the list, the majority of whom are students, may be one likely factor influencing the lower turnout in Delhi but one has to look for other factors too. A second observation that can be made from Table 12.3 concerns the uneven growth in the electoral sizes of different constituencies. In 1967, Chandni Chowk with an electorate of less than 2,00,000, was the smallest constituency whilst South Delhi, with an electorate of about 3,00,000, was the biggest. This difference has since widened. As of 1998, Chandni Chowk still remained the smallest constituency (3,68,226 electors). However, two constituencies-Outer Delhi and East Delhi with 29,26,563 and 22,64,600 electorates respectively-have grown to sizes which are unmanageable both for representatives and for the electorate. This illustrates the short-sightedness of the Parliament's decision in 1976 to postpone the next delimitation of constituencies until after the year 2001. Third, the data presented in Table 12.3 clearly shows the emergence of a two-party system in Delhi. The Bharatiya Jan Sangh (BJS), the earlier incarnation of the present BharatiyaJanata Party (BJP) , polled 26 pel' cent of votes in the very first election of 1952 as against 49 pel' cent votes polled by the Congress party. Barring two elections (1957 and 1984), in al! subsequent elections the BJS/BJP or the Bharatiya Lok Dal/Janata Party secured more than one-quarter of the total votes polled in Delhi. As far as the number ofseats is concerned, the BJS won six of the seven seats in Delhi in the 1967 elections. In 1977 the Congress drew a blank and ail seven seats were cornered by the Janata Party of which the BJS was almost the sole constituent. As part of the Janata Party, it polled 38 pel' cent of votes and won only one seatin 1980. After 1971, 1984 turned out ta he the worst election for the BJP. Having suffered a humiliating defeat in 1984 the BJP gained supremacy over the Congress in ail subsequent elections. In alliance with theJanata DaI it won five seats (4 BJP + IJD) in 1989 and in bath the 1991 and 1996 Lok Sabha elections it won five seats. In the 1998 elections, while bath the major parties improved their share in votes, only the BJP benefited in terms of seats, winning six out of seven. Since 1989 the voters in Delhi seem ta have polarized into two camps, namely the Congress and the TABLE 12.3. POLITICAL PROFILE OF LOK SABHA CONSTITUENCIES (1952-96)

Year 0/ euetion New South Ou/er Ea.!/ Chandni Delhi KamI Talai Delhi Delhi Delhi Delhi Chowk Sadar Bagh

1952: Electors 1,82,293 7,75,706 1,74,522 - 11,32,521 % Tumout 56.1 58.3 58.2 57.9 % INCvote 39.2 26.2+23.2 59.6 49.4 % BJSvote 16.4+13.0 36.6 25.9 1957: Electors 1,92,753 8,79,582 1,71,563 1,72,245 - 14,16,143 % Tumout 53.9 53.7 68.8 67.9 57.8 % INCvote 73.7 26.7+26.1 43.0 54.6 54.3 % BJS vote 21.9 5.9+5.2 30.8 41.2 19.7 1962: Electors 2,68,661 3,31,600 2,01,891 2,34,520 3,08,688 13,45,360 % Tumout 64.4 66.7 71.4 71.3 71.1 68.8 % INC vote 56.7 44.3 50.0 48.4 54.4 50.7 % BJSvote 38.1 34.1 29.2 33.8 28.3 32.7 1967: Electors 2,08,755 2,98,699 2,58,107 2,65,230 1,94,661 2,25,517 2,33,745 16,84,714 % Turnout 73.3 67.1 68.5 67.3 72.7 71.1 68.6 69.5 % INCvote 38.6 35.8 40.8 45.5 31.2 41.3 37.3 38.8 % BJSvote 55.4 54.5 35.2 48.8 44.1 47.5 40.2 46.7 1971: Electors 2,17,319 4,08,392 3,48,585 3,58,046 1,94,732 2,34,764 2,54,558 20,16,396 % Tumout 59.2 66.7 62.9 64.8 72.0 67.5 64.1 65.2 % INCvote 64.4 62.4 66.1 64.1 64.2 62.5 67.9 64.4 % BJS vote 29.4 35.9 13.9 31.7 31.5 35.3 30.0 29.6 1977: Electors 2,70,702 3,82,219 4,43,858 5,11,716 3,13,714 3,09,550 3,15,305 25,47,064 % Tumout 65.8 69.5 71.3 70.1 83.0 71.0 68.9 71.3 % INCvote 27.6 29.0 32.6 30.4 27.0 29.6 34.2 30.2 %JNPvote 71.3 69.8 66.1 67.9 71.9 66.2 64.3 68.2 1980: Electors 3,01,071 5,04,959 6,07,825 6,77,955 2,99,479 3,33,500 3,44,847 3,06,936 % Tumout 65.1 63.2 62.8 62.4 71.7 69.2 65.7 64.9 % INCvote 45.9 47.8 50.4 55.0 47.3 47.4 55.3 50.4 %JPvote 48.5 46.5 24.1 33.9 39.2 43.9 39.7 37.9 1984: Electors 3,04,123 5,22,980 8,54,302 8,32,324 2,83,849 3,67,575 3,31,628 34,96,781 % Tumout 64.7 68.3 59.8 61.4 71.8 68.8 67.1 64.5 %INCvOle 67.9 61.1 72.8 76.9 60.5 62.1 68.8 68.7 % BJPvote 30.4 37.0 23.1' 14.7 37.2 35.8 29.5 18.8 1989: Elecrors 4,29,535 8,51,780 15,74,973 14,78,000 3,81,491 5,06,017 4,81,032 57,02,828 % Tumout 55.0 56.7 50.2 49.7 66.5 61.1 60.1 54.3 % INCvote 41.9 37.4 42.7 49.8 36.0 43.2 47.3 43.4 % BJPvote 53.5 59.4 49.5' 5.3' 32.1 53.8 49.7 47.2 1991: Electors 4,56,073 9,04,489 18,66,074 15,82,516 3,99,737 5,34,335 5,09,932 60,73,156 % Turnout 47.9 46.6 41.4 48.2 57.2 53.6 50.3 48.5 % INCvote 42.7 37.8 45.4 32.1 34.5 48.6 39.2 39.6 % BJPvote 43.4 50.0 34.0 40.3 35.7 43.6 40.2 40.2 1996: EJectors 5,05,445 1,10,39,548 28,21,566 22,21,193 3,62,555 5,00,633 5,43,590 80,58,941 % Tumout 51.7 5.0 48.1 50.5 57.5 60.2 53.7 50.6 % INCvote 31.7 34.1 35.1 34.9 44.9 46.6 52.5 37.3 % BJP \'Ote 54.3 55.6 52.5 48.7 34.1 47.2 38.0 49.6 1998: Electors 5,17,319 1,15,607 29,26,563 22.64,600 3,68,226 5,11,403 5,53,436 82,97,622 % Tumout 50.2 49.3 49.0 51.4 61.8 58.5 54.5 51.3 % INCvote 41.7 38.1 43.4 44.9 33.9 40.6 48.8 42.6 % BJPvote 54.4 58.8 50.3 48.8 35.3 56.9 47.2 50.7

No/e: In 1984 and 1989 the BJP contested the election in alliance with the Lok Dai andJanata DaI respectivel)'. Figures marked with an asterisk under the constituenc)' column denote their respeclive shares while the rest are c1ubbed with the BJP vote in the state total. Abln-roialions: INC: Indian National Congress; BJS: Bharati)'a Jana Sangh; JNP: Janata National Party; JP:Janata Party; BJP: BharatiyaJanata Party. Source: V.B. Singh and Shanar Bose, Eue/ion.< in India: Da/a Handbook on Lok Sabh" Eue/ion.<, 1952-85, New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1987; V. Singh, Eue/ion in India: Daia Handbook on Lok Sabha Eue/ion.!, 1986-91, New Delhi: Sage Publications, 1994; and Election Commission of India S/a/i.

BharatiyaJanata Party, both polling about 40 per cent votes each. That is to say that between the two of them, these two parties share 80 per cent of the total votes in Delhi. Finally, a closer scrutiny of election results at the constituency level suggests that the BJP, wl1ich appears to have consolidated its position at the state level is still weak in sorne constituencies. For example, Chandni Chowk and Outer Delhi are two constituencies where the ~JP has lost most of the elections. In these constituencies only in 3 of the Il elections held so far, have the results gone in its favour, whereas in other constituencies the BJP has either fared better than the Congress or represented the constituency on more or less an equal number ofoccasions. The weaker performance of the BJP in Chandni Chowk and Outer Delhi may be attributed to the nature of the social composition of these constituencies. While the former has a large concentration of Muslims, the latter includes a substantial rural population within it, the majority ofwhom belong to lower socio-economic groups. Interestingly, these are the social groups generally considered ta be hostile to the BJP. As elsewhere in the country, while Muslims have strong reservations about the pro-Hindu stance ofthe BJP, so too do sorne sections of the majority community. Depending on local conditions the same social group may support the party in one area but oppose itvehemently in others. As far as Delhi is concerned, both parties-the Congress and the BJP-have, over the years, stabilized their support bases in different sections ofsociety. This is evident at least from the aggregate data presented in Table 12.3. However, there have been noticeable shifts in voters' loyalties as weil. Had this not been the case, voters' verdicts in different elections would have remained stable through time. With these peculiarities, the case of Delhi provides an excellent opportunity for examining stability and change in the support bases of parties. The pages that follow explore this crucial aspect of voting behaviour by analysing the post-poli survey data from Delhi.

1996 ELECTION SURVEYIN NEW DELHI Delhi formed a part ofthe national sample ofthe all-India study ofthe 1996 LokSabhaelections. However, its representation with 212 cases selected from 2 Vidhan Sabha constituencies was too small to enable analysis at the state level. Coverage in the state was therefore increased and 12 more Vidhan Sabha constituencies were selected to form a larger sample size for the state (see note on sampling, Appendix 1). In ail, 932 cases were selected from 14 segments (see Map 12.1) and interviews with 563 respondents were completed. Considering urban mobility the completion rate of60 per cent for a survey like this was quite respectable. The representation of male electorates in Delhi is higher than the national average. Accordingly, there are more male respondents in the sample. Out of 563 cases for which data were collected, 55 per cent were males. 1t may be noted that the proportion ofmales in the Delhi population is also 55 per cent (see Table 12.4). Delhi's electorate is also better educated DELHI

List ofParliamentary Constituencies

1. New Delhi 2. South Delhi 3. Outer Delhi 4. East Delhi 5. Chandni Chowk o Sampled Conslituencics 6. Delhi Sadar 7. Kam1Bagh

SOUTCI! : CSDS Data Unit.

MAP 12.1. PARLlAMENTARYCONSTlTVENClES OF DELHI. 214 V.B. SINGH

than electorates elsewhere. As against 42 per cent iIIiterates in the national sample, Delhi has only 22 per cent which is about 3 per cent less than the census figure of 1991. But the fact that the literacy level has increased during the last six years means the proportion of iIIiterates in our sampIe cornes much closer to the reality. Among the literate, 48 per cent have done nine or more years of schooling, and of these about 20 per cent are graduates or post-graduates. Similarly, the proportion of people pursuing business, white collar or professional jobs is also quite high. Corresponding roughly to the state average, Hindus represent 87 per cent of the sample, Muslims 8 per cent and Sikhs 4 per cent. Roughly halfofthe Delhi electarate, according ta the survey, belong to upper castes while only 12 per cent of Delhi's total sample belong to Other Backward Classes (OBC) castes. There is, however, an over-representation of Scheduled Castes in our sample. They represent 27 per cent in the sample, but only 19 per cent in the total population of Delhi. Apart from this, the close resemblance between the sample and the total population of Delhi as reflected in Table 12.4 makes the sampIe quite representative and enhances confidence in the survey findings. In spite of the large proportion of Scheduled Castes (27 per cent), the Delhi sampie consists of people belonging mainly to the upper economic strata. Roughly one-sixth of those questioned own a car orjeep and a litde less than half own a scooter or motor cycle. As many as 90 per cent of them own televisions; 78 per cent have radios or transistors and 77 per cent live in pukka (brick or cement) houses. The proportion ~f those living in huts or kutcha (mud) houses is very small (9 per cent). Newspaper readership is also quite high (53 per cent). This is second only to Goa (58 per cent) and higher than Kerala (52 per cent). On other indicators like 'listening to the Radio' and '1Vviewing', Delhi also ranks at the top ofthe scale. Considering this background, the interest level of DeIhi voters was found to be quite low. Only 43 per cent took an interest in the 1996 election campaign as against much higher proportions in Pondicherry (81 per cent), Kerala (73 per cent) .and Tamil Nadu (60 per cent). This low level ofinterest in elections in Delhi, especially among people who are weIl educated and better exposed to the information system than in inany other parts ofthe country, does not augur

TABLE 12.4. BACKGROUND CHARACTERlSTICS OF RESPONDENTS AND THE TOTAL POPULATION OF DELHI (in per cent)

Background Distriln.ttion in Sampte Distriln.tlion in Charactenstics Charactenstics Population

Male 54.5 54.7 Rural 9.1 10,1 IIliterate 21.3 24.7 Scheduled Caste 27.4 19.3 Muslim 7.9 9.4 Sikh 3.6 4.8

Source: Post-Poil Survey, 1996; and 1991 Census Reports. POLITICAL PROFILE OF DELHI 215

weB for the health of democracy in the long run. The short-term faBout in the form of lower voter turnouts in recent Delhi elections has already been seen.

THE SOCIAL BASES OF THE TWO MAIN PARTIES Except in 1984, when the Congress swept the poli, riding the sympathy wave foBowing the assassination of Indira Gandhi, popular support for the BJP has not dropped below 38 per cent in any election heId from 1971 to 1998. Similarly, the Congress party's share of votes has always remained above 30 per cent. However, 1977 was the only election when it could not win any seat and when its share of votes came down to the lowest of 30 per cent. Losses and gains in seats notwithstanding, both parties have done quite weB in sustaining popular support above 30 per cent. While a casuallook atTable 12.3 clearly shows the crystallization of the support bases of both parties, a comparison oftrends in the share ofvotes held by the Congress (decreasing) and the BJP (increasing) during the last four elections of 1989, 1991, 1996, and 1998, suggests a shift in voters' loyalties. Who votes for whom and what distinguishes the supporters ofone party from those ofthe other are questions 1 would like to answer from the data coBected in the post-poli survey of 1996. Data presented in Table 12.5 conform to the general trend. While Muslims, Scheduled Castes and people belonging to lower socio-economic groups tend to support the Congress party, the opposite is true in the case of the BJP. In fact the lower the status in terms ofcaste, the further the distance from the BJP. In the 1996LokSabhaelections in Delhi 74 per cent ofupper castes voted for the BJP as against only 42 per cent ofScheduled Castes. The .BJP could not get any votes from Muslims and the majority of OBC voters favoured non-BJP candidates. Ifthese were to be added together with other groups who oppose the BJP like Scheduled Castes and Christians, then this would constitute a serious threat to the BJP. But since Delhi's population contains such a high percentage ofupper castes (over 50 per cent), votes in the capital are heavily biased in favour of the BJP. Caste hierarchies are not merely levels of social ranking. They have an economic aspect too. People belonging to higher castes are on the whole endowed with better economic standing by way of inheritance, better education, and betteroccupations. AB a result, the relationship between caste hierarchy and vote preferences is more or less reflected in economic variables as weil. That is, support for the Congress cornes largely from illiterates and lower levels ofliterate, manual workers and those involved in other low-Ievel occupations while support for the BJP cornes from people placed higher in terms of education and occupation. For example, 56 per cent of illiterates vote for the Congresswhile 70 per centofthose having college and university education vote for the BJP. Similarly, more than two-thirds of professionaIs and business peoplevote for the BJP while the majority ofthe Class IVworkers and manuallabourers lend their support to the Congress (see Table 12.5). TABLE 12.5. VOTE PREFERENCES BYRESPONDENTS' BACKGROUNDS

Background chamclmstics INC BJP Others Total

A. Caste & Religion Upper Castes 25.1 71.9 3.0 231 Other Backward Classes 39.0 52.5 8.5 59 Scheduled Castes/Tribes 52.0 39.3 8.7 150 Muslims (ail categories) 706 29.4 34 Others 38.5 53.8 7.7 13

Chi-5quare: 93.58; Df.: - 8; Probability: <.01

B. Education Illiterate 55.7 34.0 10.4 21.9 Primary School & below 51.6 41.9 6.5 12.8 Middle School 37.5 52.3 10.2 18.1 High school 33.0 63.3 3.7 22.5 College-undergraduate 20.0 70.0 10.0 6.2 Graduate & above 24.4 70.0 5.6 18.6

Chi-Square: 41.00; Df.: 8; Probability: <.01

C. Occupation Professional 27.7 66.2 6.2 13.6 Trader/Shopkeeper 2.8 68.2 3.0 27.6 White-eollar skilled worker 32.1 56.0 11.9 22.8 Class IV employee & semi-skilled worker 50.0 39.8 10.2 18.4 Unskilled worker 57.7 36.6 5.6 14.8 Others 50.0 35.7 14.3 2.9

Chi-Square: 40.21; Df.: 10; Probability: <.01

D. Oumership ofHouse or Flat Yes 33.9 60.7 5.4 75.8 No 53.4 33.1 13.6 24.2

Chi-Square: 29.49; Df.: 2; Probability: <.01

E. Economies Class * Very Poor 57.1 32.1 10.7 6.0 Poor 52.0 38.8 9.2 21.0 Middle 41.6 50.4 8.0 29.4 Rich 25.6 69.0 5.4 43.6

Chi-5quare: 33.65; Df.: 6; Probability : <.01

TOTAL: N 188 263 36 487 per cent 38.6 54.0 7.4 100.0

Note: Vote shares are calculated row-wise, i.e. for each social or economic group separately while the figures reported in the total column denote shares of specifie groups in the total sampie of Delhi who marked their vote preferences. * For details on the construction of class variables, see Appendix II. Source: Post·Poll Survey, 1996. POLITICAL PROFILE OF DELHI 217

The relationship between voters' preferences and their social status as reflected by the four variables ofcaste, education, occupation and ownership of a house or flat is amplified when we examine the question of 'economic class'. Since ail of these attributes have economic connotations, 1 decided to construct an index of 'economic class' using composite information concerning a person's income, assets, occupational status and type of residential accommodation. 1 then used the index to see how different classes of people in Delhi voted in the 1998 elections. As expected, the BJP got its main support from the upper economic classes while the Congress got the majority of its support from the poorer sections of society (see E, Table 12.5). The secret of the BJP's success in Delhi lies in the nature ofthe distribution ofDelhi's population in different socio-economic categories. That is, Delhi has a fairly large share of people belonging to the upper economic class, many ofwhom are from high castes, well-educated backgrounds and work in high-ranking occupations. If one excludes the 44 per cent of people belonging to this (rich) class, then one can see that the Congress polis more votes than the BJP from amongst the other three classes including the 'middle' class. Ofthe 263 voters belonging to either the very POOl', poor or middle class categories, the Congress gets 124 votes (47 per cent) as against the BJP's 116 (44 per cent). But the fact that the BJP gets 69 per cent of its support from the rich (who constitute 44 per cent of the total voters) turns the tide in its favour. The BJP's capacity to attract voters from the upper classes is clearly demonstrated by the data presented in Table 12.5. The higher the status of the people, the greater their propensity to vote for the BJP whereas the opposite dynamic is true for the Congress. Exactly the same relationship is found at an ail India level as weil. Figures 12.1 and 12.2 present the comparative data. While the basic trend remains the same, degrees ofsupport from various segments ofsociety have changed. The BJP which managed to get about one-third of its support fr~m the lowest class in Delhi, failed miserably in attractingvoters in the same proportion from this class ofpeople in other parts ofthe country. As a result, it received only 15 pel' cent ofvotes at allindia level from the 'very poor' class. Even from the 'poor' it got only 22 per cent. Since these two classes (very poor and pOOl') between them account for 62 per cent of the total voters of the country, the BJP's share of votes at an ail India level came down to 24 pel' cent despite its success in mobilizing the support of 42 pel' cent of the 'rich'. The idea of an upper-class support base for the BJP may satisfy its supporters, particularly those who come from this section but its opponents can rest assured that in a game of numbers it can never take the party to majority status. The hype of'majoritarianism' propagated through the BJP's Hindutva plank is baseless unless it manages ta expand its appeal and acceptance among the lower segments ofsociety, both economic and social. A look at the all-India graph (Figure 12.1) presenting the class-based support of the three major political groupings (Congress, BJP and Others) reveals that the other parties, major constituents ofwhich are the regional parties INDIA

'XID

x~(S2'2)I

610 (40 1) : \ (420) ~~S) BJP i [24.4] : ;(l0 j 1 1 (328) (3L7) ! X:------_ ~ 'OTHERS , . {24.4] I::l 400 (32 0) ~ (2~\~\ (Ne ! (2~3) [30.9] l j ~o~/ i . (15.0) : \ ! i 100

0.0 , VERY POOR [31.0] POOR [30.9] MIDDLE [30.9J RICH [30.9J

Nole: Ali figures in percenû'lges. Figures presented in round brad.ets 0 denote the percentage of vote preferences within each dass while those in sguare brackets [] present the shares ofvoters in the total sampIe. * For details on the construction of dass variables, see Appendix II. Source:. Post-Poil Survey, 1996.

FIGURE 12.1 VOTE PREFERENCES BYECONOMIC CLASS (ALL INDrA), 1996 DELHI

(69.0) i BJP [54.9]

1 1 (50.4) !: : 50.0 l,V j !

i (38.8) l ~O j ;f!. I:l ~' ~ /, ! 30.0 (25.6) / INe 1\ [37.8)

20.0

(IO·7) (9',2) lO'O X---- .:..;\ (8;~ ~ (5.4)

-:{OTHERS [7.3) j-----1-1-----+1------lI 00VERY POOR [6.9) POOR [210] MIDDLE [29.4] RICH [43.6) ECONOMIC CLASS

Nole: Ali figures in percentages. Figure, presented in round brackets 0 denote the per­ centage ofvote preferences \vithin each dass while those in square brackets [] present the shares ofvoters in the total sample. * For details on the construction of dass variables, see Appendix II. Source: Post-Poli Survey. 1996. fleURE 12.2. VOTE PREFERENCES BYECONOMIC ClASS (DELHI), 1996. 220 V.B. SINCH

and ofcourse the Left Front and National Front, enjoy a definite edge over both the national parties (the Congress and the BJP) when it cornes to attracting 'very pOOl" and 'pOOl" voters. Between the Congress and the BJP the former is still much better placed than the latter in this respect. The miserable performance of the BJP in attracting voters from the lowest economic class, the majority ofwhom come from Scheduled Castes and Tribes and lower OBCs, constitutes the main weakness of the party. Considering present political developments and patterns of support, as reflected in the survey data, the void created by the decline ofCongress is likely to be filled mostly by non-BJP parties at least among the lower classes of people. Meanwhile, the BJP is likely to garner support largely from amongst the upper segments of society, the composition of which varies from region ta region. Considering the overarching influence of caste in Indian politics, especially during elections, 1 decided ta analyse voting preferences by caste group within each of the four classes separately in Table 12.6 (at the aIl­ India level). Although caste plays an important role in influencing people's voting preferences, class appears ta be an equally important factor. For example, if wc take Scheduled Castes, a group usually hostile ta the BJP, we find that the higher they move up the class ladder, the more likely they are ta vote for the BJP. While the party's support is only 11 pel' cent from the 'vc;;ry poor', it increases ta 19 pel' cent among the 'poor', 25 pel' cent among the 'middle' rank and 41 pel' cent among the 'rich'. This pattern is also discernible with other castes and with tribes. The class factor is equally important for the Left Frontwhich gets as high as 13 pel' cent of upper-caste votes from among the 'very pOOl" and only 4 pel' cent from among the 'rich'. More or less the same trend is found in the case of the National Front. From this it may be concluded that it is the economic status rather than the caste position as such (though the two are often closely related) which plays the greatest l'ole in influencing a person's voting preference. Tuming back to Delhi 1have aIsa tried ta examine the voting preferences of in-migrants who constitute a large chunk of Delhi's population. Out of the total number ofvoters in Delhi, 67 pel' cent are Delhi-barn, 19 pel' cent indicate that they have come either from Uttar Pradesh or Bihar and the remaining 14 pel' cent from other states (see Table 12.7). Interestingly, the BJP receives its maximum support from amongst the people coming from other states. In-migrants from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are found ta vote for the Congress and the BJP in equal proportions. The myth thatvoters from Bihar and Uttar Pradesh form a special group and tend ta vote for a particular party or candidate en masse is unfounded as they are equally divided in their voting preferences. They may come from the same place, live together in sIums, resettlement colonies or other types of residential areas and share many things in common, but their voting decision is largely guided by their socio-economic status and the political background they have come from. Since caste is the most important factor TABLE 12.6. VOTE PREFERENCES BYCASTE AND CLASS (in jmcenl) (ALL INDlA)

Class Upper Olhl'T Scheduled Scheduled Musli", Tulal Parly Caste Barkward Caste Tribe (ail Classes calegories)

Very Poor INc+ 31.5 28.0 34.4 43.8 42.0 33.5 BJP+ 29.2 23.7 10.7 19.0 2.0 18.2 NF 8.8 16.9 7.8 8.1 18.0 12.1 LF 13.4 8.9 15.9 12.4 23.3 12.9 BSP 0.9 2.9 Il.4 1.7 5.0 Other 16.2 19.5 19.9 15.0 14.7 18.4 TOTAL 216 931 730 347 150 2,374 (9.1) (39.2) (30.7) (14.6) (6.3) (100) Chi-Square: 261.43; Df.: 20; Probability: <.01 Poor INC+ 33.4 24.0 35.9 47.6 47.4 32.4 BJP+ 45.0 26.5 19.0 25.2 2.9 26.7 NF 4.2 19.4 4.1 8.0 18.3 12.2 LF 8.2 5.6 11.5 3.6 15.4 7.8 BSP 0.7 3.1 19.2 1.2 1.1 5.5 Other 8.5 21.4 10.3 14.4 14.9 15.5 TOTAL 449 1,018 468 250 175 2,360 (19.0) (43.1) (19.8) (10.6) (7.4) (100) Chi-Square: 533.17; Df.: 20; Probability: <.01 Afiddle INC+ 30.7 20.7 39.3 52.7 41.0 29.6 BJP+ 49.6 30.6 25.3 24.7 3.8 35.9 NF 4.3 21.9 5.2 6.5 32.4 12.7 LF 6.8 5.8 7.0 1.1 12.4 6.5 BSP 0.4 1.9 13.1 2.9 2.6 Other 8.2 19.1 10.0 15.1 7.6 12.8 TOTAL 776 729 229 93 105 1,932 (40.2) (37.7) (11.9) (4.8) (5.4) (100) Chi-Square: 429.76; Df.: 20; Probability: <.01 Rich INC+ 26.3 19.6 26.5 47.8 54.2 26.6 BJP+ 57.2 34.9 40.8 43.5 2.1 47.9 NF 4.7 17.9 6.1 39.6 9.6 Llo' 3.8 5.1 8.2 2.1 4.1 BSP 0.2 8.2 0.5 Other 7.8 22.6 10.2 8.7 2.1 11.3 T01AL 612 235 49 23 48 967 (63.3) (24.3) (5.1 ) (2.4) (5.0) (100) Chi-Square: 235.17; Df.: 20; Probability: <.01

GRAND TOTAl. 26.9 38.2 19.3 9.3 6.3 100 (2,053) (2,913) (1,476) (713) (478) (7,633)

Note: Figures in parentheses denote row percentages. Abbrroiations : INC+: Indian National Congress and ils allies, namely Ali India Anna Dravida Munnena Kazhagam in Tamil Nadu and partners ofUnited DemOCfJtic Front in Kerala; BJP ..: Bharatiya Janata Party and its allies, namely Shiv Sena in Maharashtra, Samata Pany in Bihar and Haryana Vikas Party in Haryana; NF: National Front consisting ofJanata Dai, Samajwadi Party; LF: Left Front consisting ofCommunist Party oflndia (Marxist), Communist Party of India, Revolutionary Socialist Party and Forward Bloc; BSP: Bahujan Samaj Party. Snurct!: Post-Poli Survey, 1996. 222 V.B. SINGH in Uttar Pradesh and Bihar 1 decided to examine their voting preferences by caste and found that 67 per cent ofupper castes from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar voted for the BJP while the majority (57 per cent) from other castes and communities voted for the Congress (see Table 12.7). On the other hand, in-migrants from other states have shown greater and wider support for the BJP, notjust among the upper castes but amongother groups as weIl. Therefore, one may safely conclude that the voting choices of in-migrants are largely intluenccd by their economic status and caste affiliation and not by their place oforigin. Since in-migrants from Uttar Pradesh and Bihar are constituted largely by non-upper castes (51 per cent), their support for the Congress equals that for the BJP. As far as the attitudes and opinions ofDelhi voters are concerned, they are found to be more critical of their representatives, political parties and the electoral system than people in the country as a whole. Among the Delhi voters 78 per cent feel that elected representatives do not care about the people they represent as against 63 per cent in the nationwide sample. Similarly, 35 percentofDelhi voters (as opposed to 27 per cent in the national sample) feel that political parties are not very helpful in making the government pay attention to the people. A similar attitude is found when it cornes to elections. AlI of these factors contribute to the comparatively low turnout in Delhi elections. The m'Y0rity ofDelhi voters (55 per centas against only 21 per cent in the national sample) reject the idea of loyalty to one's region above loyalty to India, thereby showing a metropolitan frame ofmind.

TABLE 12.7. VOTE PREFERENCES BYPl.ACE OF BIRTH

Place DI Birth [Ne BJP Others Total

Ullar Pradesh or Bihar 45.7 45.7 8.7 92 Upper Castes 33.3 66.7 45 . Others 57.4 25.5 17.0 47

Chi-Square: 19.11; Df.: 2; Probability: <.01

Other States 33.8 58.8 7.4 68 Upper Castes 18.5 74.1 7.4 27 Others 43.9 48.8 7.3 41

Chi-Square: 4.87; Df.: 2; Probabi1ity: <.09

Born in Delhi 37.6 55.4 7.0 327 Upper Castes 23.9 73.0 3.1 159 Others 50.6 38.7 10.7 168

Chi-Square: 39.46; Df.: 2; Probability: <.01

TOTAL 38.6 54.0 7.4 487

Source: Post-Poli Survey, 1996. POLITICAL PROFILE OF DELHI 223

Interestingly, about 60 per cent of Delhi voters claim to have found the demolition of the Babri Masjid in Ayodhya unjustified and 46 per cent of them voted for the BJP. From among those who considered the demolition justified the BJP got 77 per cent of votes as against the Congress' 20 per cent. Finally, those Delhi voters who are economically better off reveal a higher level of optimism about the future. They anticipate good economic prospects and foresee better opportunities for their children. As expected, the BJP gets a larger share ofvotes from these people which reconfirms the upper-elass bias in favour of the party. In the final analysis, it can be concluded that Delhi presents a picture of the development of a two-party system in which the Congress and the BJP compete for supremacy. Between the two, the Congress' support appears to be dwindling. Having polled 69 per cent of votes and won ail seven seats in 1984, its share of both votes and seats has registered a graduai decline in subsequent elections. Meanwhile, the BJP share has increased accordingly. Analysis of their support bases, however, suggests that the Congress, despite a gradualloss in popularity, still enjoys a broader base than the BJP. Apart from the upper strata, the Congress has attracted more than average support from ail other social groups; by contrast, the BJP has no support whatsoever among Muslims and less than its state average support among OBCs, Scheduled Castes and other religious groups like Christians. Similarly, the BJP has received much less votes from illiterates, Class IV employees and manual workers, thereby indicating the upper caste and class bias of its supporters. This narrower support base of the BJP is further substantiated by the fact that it has received less support in the rural areas of Delhi (as compared to rural areas nationally) and its fate in the Outer Delhi constituency continues to fluctuate. With this inability to attract voters from lower social groups, the BJP still faces uncertainty in sustaining its newly acquired superiority ovei the Congress in Delhi politics. Similar trends are also discernible from the all­ India data. This brings into question the future prospect of the BJP at the ail-India level. Yet, in Delhi, since its record for attracting voters from the upper segments of society is fairly high, the BJP does not have to worry much about its prospects as large proportions ofthe population are classified as 'weil educated', 'upper caste' or 'upper class'. Since these groups appear to be expanding in Delhi, it is likely that the BJP will be able to retain its support base here in the near future. This may be the reason why, unlike in Maharashtra and Rajasthan, the incumbency factor did not adversely affect the BJP's performance in Delhi in the 1998 Lok Sabha elections. Finally, those Delhi voters who are weil educated, better informed and capable of taking a critical stand on issues, can also be characterized as being volatile in their behaviour. The low turnout among the upper segments of society is a mild way of expressing resentment. However, if resentment increases, the same voters could potentially turn to vote in large numbers against their usual partyor candidate. This makes the BJP more vulnerable than it appears. 224 v.B. SINGH

APPENDIX I. NOTE ON SAMPLING In order to draw a representative sampie of the Delhi electorate a multi­ stage stratified random sampling procedure has been used wherein it was decided to select 20 per cent of the total assembly constituencies of Delhi, that is, out of 70 assembly constituencies a total of 14 were selected. The selection of different sampie units was made in different stages:

Stage One: Selection ofAssemhly Constituencies 1. Ali assembly constituencieswith their electorates were serialized according to the Election Commission's Delimitation order; 2. The cumulative total of the electorate was assigned against each constituency in ascending order; 3. In order to avoid selection of contiguous constituencies, the total electorate in the state was divided by the number ofconstituencies to be sèlected, i.e. 14. It helped to create as many geographical zones as the number ofsampled constituencies. Figures thus obtained represent the total electors of one zone and are hereafter called a 'constant'; 4. Finally, to select individual assembly constituencies, a random number (using Random Number table) was chosen from within the constant and compared with the cumulative total of electorate listed against each constituency. In whichever cumulative total it fell, the constituency listed against thatwas chosen as the first sampie and subsequent assembly consti­ tuencies were selected by adding the constant to the random number. That is, one addition of constant would give a second constituency, two additions would give a third one and so on.

This procedure, while providing adequate coverage (geographical) of the state, also ensures a proporticnal chance to every constituencywith a larger electorate to enjoy a greater chance ofselection in the sample.

Stage Two: Selection ofPolling Booths Two polling booths from each ofthe 14 assembly constituencies were selected by simple random procedure, that is the PPS (probability proportionate to size) method was not followed in the selection of polling booths. However, care was taken to avoid selection ofcontiguous units. To do so:

1. The total number of booths in an assembly constituency was divided by two to make two geographical groups and to obtain a number (constant) that would determine the distance between the two sample booths; 2. The first polling booth was selected by picking a randam number from the first half; 3. The second polling booth was selected by adding the constant to the seriai numbcr of the first sampic booth. POLlTlCAL PROFILE OF DELHI 225

Stage Three: Selection ofRespondents To select individual respondents from the sampled booths, the following steps were followed:

1. The most recent electoral roll of the sample booth was obtained from the election office; 2. Ifrequired, the electoral roll was serialized for any deletions and additions in the roll; 3. The total number of electors in the sampie booth was divided by 53 for the four booths which formed part of the national sampie and by 30 for the remaining booths to obtain a constant to divide the electors in as many sub-units; 4. A random number was chosen from within the constant to select the first respondent from that booth. The constantwas added to the random number to select the next respondent and this exercise was repeated tiIl the last respondent from that booth was selected,

This procedure was repeated for aIl the 28 polling booths and a list of 932 respondents was prepared to fôrm a representative sample for the National Capital Region of Delhi.

APPENDIX II. NOTE ON CONSTRUCTION OF SCALE ON 'ECONOMIC CLASS' Economie Class is computed by summating the score assigned to each respondent on four indicators, namely, monthly household income, occupational status, asset holding status and type of residential accom­ modation, First, a value of 1, 2, 3,4 or 5 (low to high) was assigned against each indicator for each respondent. A sum total of these values ranging between a lowest of 4 and highest of 20 was obtained in the second step. And, finally, considering the frequency distribution, mean score and standard deviation for the total, four class intervals were created to make four classes labelled as 1: very poor; 2: poor; 3: middle; and 4: rich.

NOTES

1. This paper \Vas written in March-April1998 and itendswith the analysisofthe results of the 1998 Lok Sabha elections and not beyond. 2. See Véronique Dupont's essay in this volume for the example ofhouseless migrant workers. 3. For details of the living conditions in squatter settlements, see Saraswati Haider's essay in this volume.

PART V MAPPINGS

13

Spatial and Demographie Growth ofDelhi sinee 1947 and the Main Migration Flows

VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHIe GROWfH OF DELHI The development of Delhi and its metropolitan area reflects a major trend in India's urbanization process which is the growing concentration of the urban population in metropolises ofa million or several million inhabitants. Yet the domination ofthe Indian urban scene by these 'megalopolises' takes place within the context of a country which is predominanùy rural and is likely to remain so in the medium term (in 1991 only 26 per cent of the population lived in urban areas). The demographic evolution of the city of Delhi during the twentieth century is closely linked to the history of the country. Following the promotion of Delhi as the capital of the British Indian Empire in 1911, the population grew from 2,38,000 in 1911 to 6,96,000 in 1947. On the other hand, the spatial expansion of the city according to a widely spread pattern of urbanization led to a dramatic decrease of resideiltial densities from 55 inhabitants per hectare in 1911 to 18 in 1921, followed by a graduaI increase up to 40 in 1941 (see Table 13.1). Mter Independence in 1947 Delhi became the capital of the newly formed -Indian Union and had to face a massive transfer of population following the partition oflndia. Thus,just after 1947 Delhi, whose population was about 9,00,000 at the time, received 4,70,000 refugees from western Punjab and Sindh, while 3,20,000 Muslims left the capital and migrated to Pakistan. Not surprisingly, 1941-51 is the period ofthe highest demographic growth in the history of the capital which expanded from almost 7,00,000 inhabitants in 1941 to 1.4 million in 1951, corresponding to an annualgrowth rate of 7.5 per cent which has not been equalled since. Such a demographic growth occurred togetherwith the spatial expansion ofthe urban zone in aIl directions, including to the east ofthe Yamuna river. The 'official' urban area almost doubled between 1941 and 1961 (see Table 13.1). The geographicallocation ofDelhi in the Gangetic plain, and, moreover, the absence of any significant physical barrier to the progress of urbanization (the Aravalli hills-the -in the west and the south do not constitute an effective obstacle) favoured multi-directional urban 230 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

TABLE 13.1. POPULATION, AREA AND DENSITY OF DELHI URBAN AGGLOMERATION FROM 1911 TO 1991

Yeur PO/JUilllion Area Demily

NlLmber Decenniai Annuai 5Q' km Decennial PO/J/ha {..,rmwlh growlh growlh ralf- rate raie %% %

1911 2,37,944 43.25 55 1921 3,04,420 27.94 2.·19 168.09 288.64 18 1931 4,47,442 46.98 3.93 169.44 0.80 26 1941 6,95,686 55.48 4.51 174.31 2.87 40 1951 14,37,134 106.58 7.52 201.36 15.52 71 1961 23,59,408 64.17 5.08 326.55 62.07 72 1971 36,47,023 54.57 4.45 446.26 36.76 82 1981 57,29,283 57.09 4.62 540.78 21.17 106 1991 84,19,084 46.94 3.92 624.28 15.44 135

Source: Census oflndia, Delhi, 1951, 1961, 1971, 1981 and 1991. expansion, and this trend continued in the decades that followed (see Map 13.1). Delhi is the third largest Indian metropolis, overshadowed only by Mumbai and Calcutta. Furthermore, of the 12 Indian metropolises with a population of over one million in 1981, Delhi has experienced the highest rate of demographic growth despite this having slowed down in recent decades: 5.1 pel' cent pel' year from 1951 to 1961,4.5 pel' cent to 4.6 pel' cent pel' year from 1961 to 1981, and 3.9 pel' cent pel' year from 1981 ta 1991. The population ofDelhi urban agglomeration had reached 8.4 million at the time of the 1991 Census, and by 2000 it has certainly crossed the 10 million figure. This overall growth of the urban agglomeration conceals acute differences at a more desegregated level (see Maps 13.2 and 13.3). In particular, the peripheral zones exhibit faster rates of growth whereas a process of deconcentration is occurring in the historical city core known as üld Delhi-a densely populated area which contained as many as 740 inhabitants pel' hectare within the Walled City in 1961, and 616 in 1991 (as compared to 135 in the entire urban agglomeration for the same year). In order to understand better the spatial dynamics ofurban growth, it is interesting to contrast the centrifugai pattern ofpopulation growth with the spatial pattern ofresidential densities (see Map 13.4).1 The latter conforms largely to a classical model ofpopulation density gradients characterized by high densities in the urban core and a sharp decline towards the periphery, the original causes of which were summed up in three words by J. Brush: 'protection, prestige, and proximity'.2 Thus, the superposition of the two maps-population growth and densities-for the 1981-91 period suggests a negative correlation between these two variables. This is confirmed by statistical teSts although the extent of association is moderate (correlation SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHIe GROwrH OF DELHI 231 coefficient = -0.292). Nevertheless, this suggests that high population densities tend to deter new dwellers from settling and even to induce exits towards less crowded areas. The centrifugal pattern of urban growth in Delhi was first highlighted by J. Brush for the decade 1961-7l.3 This spatial pattern of population dynamics has not only persisted, butextended beyond the limits ofthe urban agglomeration. Thus, the rate ofpopulation growth between 1981 and 1991 was faster in the rural hinterland of the National Capital Territory than in Delhi's urban agglomeration: 9.6 per cent per year as against 3.8 per cent respective1y (in the urban/rurallimits as defined in the 1991 Census). These figures can be compared to the rate ofnatural growth during the same period, that is 2.5 per year on an average in rural areas and 2.1 per cent in urban areas, which underscores the contribution of net in-migration. Admittedly, population densities remain considerably lower in rural areas than in the urban agglomeration (12 inhabitants per hectare as against 135 in 1991); moreover, although the rural zones cover 54 per cent of the total area of 1483 sq. km which constitutes Delhi's National Capital Territory, they harbour only 10 per cent of the total population of the territory. The number of new settlers in the rural parts of Delhi's territory remains small as compared to those choosing to settle in urban areas. Nonetheless, these population moves are revealing of the effective appeal of the capital's rural hinterland to migrants coming from other states, and to those city dwellers who choose to leave the Delhi urban agglomeration in search of less congested and/or cheaper places to live. The process ofmetropolization and rurbanization around the capital is also reflected in economic terms. Hence, the sectorial employment structure of the working population residing in the so-called 'rural Delhi' resembles that of Indian urban areas more than rural ones: for example, only 19 per cent ofworkers in rural Delhi work in the primary sector as compared to 83 per cent ofthe rural population and 15 per cent ofthe urban population at the nationallevel according to the 1991 Census. Although the adminis­ trative limits of the Delhi urban agglomeration have been extended several times, with an almost twofold increase in the urban area between 1961 and 1991 (see Table 13.1), the rapid growth of the rural population in the National Capital Territory as weil as its economic characteristics underline the gap between the administrative delimitation ofthe urban agglomeration and the actual modalities of the urbanization process.

FACTORS CONTRIBUTING TO URBAN DECONCENTRATION Beyond the negative relationship between population growth and residential densities, the pattern of population distribution and growth is related to a number offactors: patterns ofland-use, the availability and price of land or residential property, and the accessibility ofemployment opportunities and urban services. If, as mentioned earlier, this last factor helps explain the centripetal force of the past, the actual centrifugai tendency is certainly 232 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT associated with the scarcity ofland for new residential constructions and its consequentappreciating value in central areas. The less congested peripheral zones provide more affordable housing possibilities, as well as more accessible sites for squatting. Finally, the expansion of the urban periphery is the out­ come of the relationship between planning attempts made by the Delhi Development Authority (the central administration in charge of the implementation of the Master Plan and of land development) and private initiatives and responses. The Delhi DevelopmentAuthority has played a direct role in the urban spread of the capital through its large-scale acquisition of agriculturalland geared towards the implementation of various housing programmes: the construction offlats for sale to private households ofdifferent income groups; the development ofland and the allotment of plots on a 99-year leasehold basis to private households and cooperative group housing societies; the servicing and allotment of land for the resettlement of sium dwellers and squatters evicted from central areas ofthe city. This last policy which resorts to coercive measures including the demolition of sium and squatter settlements was pursued most actively during the 'Emergency' (1975-7) during which time about 7,00,000 persons were forcibly evicted and sent to resettlement colonies, alliocated-at that time-on the urban outskirts (see Map 13.5). In sorne cases, these various schemes offlat and plot allotments are part of'mega-projects' aimed at developing new peripheral zones and leading to the creation of satellite townships. For example, the Rohini project (in the north-western suburb) launched in 1982 was planned to accommodate 8,50,000 inhabitants whilst the Dwarka-Papankala project (in the south­ western suburb), launched in 1988 and still under development, is planned to receive ultimately one million inhabitants. However, these public housing policies have failed to respond to the demands of large sections of the urban population, in particular the lower­ middle classes and the poor who have had to resort to the informai housing sector. Hence, the proliferation ofunauthorized colonies in the urban-rural fringe on agricultural land not meant for urbanization according to the stipulations of the Delhi Master Plan. In 1983, 736 such colonies were enumerated, housing an estimated 1.2 million people, that is almost 20 per cent of the population of the capital;4 in 1995, their official number had reached 1300." A policy which aimed at regularizing 567 unauthorized colonies up until 1990 is again on the agenda of the town planners, but it has not succeeded in preventing the unabated proliferation ofsuch irregular settlements. Furthermore, it seems that this regularization policy had the opposite effect of indirectly encouraging the development of new unauthorized colonies, since prospective buyers hoped their settlement would obtain regular status in the future, thereby guaranteeing the long­ term economic profitability of their investments. As for the poorer sections of the urban population, they are relegated to squatter settlements and precarious forms of habitat (locally known as SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHIe GROWfH OF DELHI 233 jhuggi-jhonpn) , which have also continued to proliferate despite the 'sIum clearance' and resettlement programmes.6 In 1994, according to official estimates, about 4,81,000 families lived in 1080 so-called 'jhuggij'honpri clusters' which varied in size from a dozen dwelling units to 12,000. 7 This figure corresponds to about 2.4 million persons-that is 20 to 25 pel' cent of the total population ofDelhi. The population density in the big clusters can be very high owing to the cramming together of families in one-room huts and very narrow lanes. Although sorne of the largest clusters are located in the urban periphery, squatter settlements are found aIl over the capital, occupying not only vacant land in the urban fringes (at the time of their emergence), but also all the interstices of the urban fabric wherever there is vacant land and where surveillance by the legal authorities is limited (see Map 13.6). Nevertheless, the uncontrolled urbanization of the outskirts ofDelhi is the effect of the residential strategies implemented not only by low-income groups, but also to sorne extent by high-income ones. For example, the construction in the southern urban-rural fringe of very luxurious and spacious 'farmhouses', built on agriculturalland often without respecting the land-use pattern and floor-area ratio stipulated for such zones, has resulted in the emergence of rich unauthorized colonies.8

PROCESS OF METROPOLIZATION: THE DEVELOPMENT OF SATELLITE TOWNS The slowdown of the population growth rate within Delhi's urban ag­ glomeration (without any decline in the rate ofnatural increase)~coincides with a redistribution of the population in favour offast growing peripheral towns. This centrifugaI population dynamic stretches out beyond the administrative limits of the National Capital Territory, thereby extending the trend of population deconcentration already observed in the urban agglomeration and its rural hinterland. Thus, the ring towns in the Delhi metropolitan area have increased at a much faster rate than the Delhi urban agglomeration. The difference was already noticeable during the 1961-71 period; it reached a peak during the 1971-81 period (8.6 per cent pel' year as against 4.6 per cent) and still was remarkable during the 1981-91 period (6.5 per cent as against 3.9 per cent) (see Map 13.7 and Table 13.2). The development of ring towns was encouraged by the regional policy of town and country planning initiated in the 19605 in order to control the growth of the capital and to curb in-migration flows by reorienting them towards other towns in the region. JO However, the initial stress put on the development of this first ring of towns around Delhi had the effect of strengthening the attraction of the capital and encouraging intensified commuting within the metropolitan area. Due to their proximity to the capital, these ring towns did not emerge as autonomous, alternative growth centres, and most of them can be considered satellite towns. The fact that the Delhi administration is in direct control ofland suitable TABLE 13.2. POPULATION GROWTH OF CITIES, TOWNSAND RURALAREAS IN DELHI METROPOLITAN AREA FROM 1951 TO 1991

Towns/zones PO/JUIo/ion Annual gTOw/hm/e (%)

1951 1961 1971 1981 1991 1951-61 1961-71 1971-81 1981-91

Delhi NCT 17,44,072 26,58,612 40,65,698 62,20,406 94,20,644 4.31 4.34 4.34 4.24 (i) Delhi UA 14,37.134 23,59,408 36,47,023 57,29,283 84,19,084 5.08 4.45 4.62 3.92 (ii) other census 38,917 52,541 3.05 towns (iii) rural Delhi 3,06,938 2,99,204 4,18,675 4,52,206 9,49,019 -0.25 3.42 0.77 7.69

Ghaziabad UA 43,745 70,438 1,37,033 2,87,170 5,11,759 4.88 6.88 7.68 5.95 Loni 3,622 5,564 8,427 10,259 36,561 4.39 4.24 1.99 13.55 35,541 1,46,514 13.31 Faridabad CA 37,393 59,039 1,22,817 3,30,864 6,17,717 4.67 7.60 10.42 6.44 (i) Faridabad 31,466 50,709 1,05,406 4.89 7.59 (ii) Ballabgarh 5,927 8,330 17,411 3.46 7.65 Gurgaon UA 18,613 3,868 57,151 1,00.877 1,35,884 7.36 4.20 5.85 3.02 Bahadurgarh UA 11,170 14,982 25,812 37,488 57,2:~5 2.98 5.59 3.80 4.32 Kundli 1,073 1,681 2,669 3,354 5,350 4.59 4.73 2.31 4.78 Total ring towns 1,15,616 1,89,572 3,53,909 8,05,553 15,11,020 5.07 6.44 (a) 8.57 6.49 (b) 8.08

AblJreviations: NCT: National Capital Territory; UA: Urban Agglomeration; CA: Complex Administration. (a): induding population of Noida; (b): exduding population of Noida. Sourre: Census oflndia, 1951, 1961, 1971, 1981 and 1991. SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHIe GROwrH OF DELHI 235 for urbanization within the National Capital Territory has encouraged sorne large-scale private property developers to implement residential housing schemes outside the administrative limits of the territory of Delhi, in the neighbouring states ofHaryana and Uttar Pradesh. Given the lack ofa mass transport system in Delhi and the surrounding region, it is the tremendous increase in private means oftransportation that has allowed the emergence ofsuch distant townships suitable for those who can afford the price ofcom­ muting daily by car, or who compensate for the increased transport cost by the cheaper housing costs.

SIGNIFICANCE OF MIGRATION TO THE POPULATION GROwrH OF DELHI The dramatic influx ofrefugees in Delhi following the partition ofthe country has already been und.erlined. In the post-Independence era, internai migration played a major role in the demographic expansion of the capital, although the relative contribution ofmigration has tended to decrease over the last decades. Thus, the share of net migration to the total population growth ofDelhi National Capital Territory (urban and rural areas included) was 62 per cent for the 1961-71 period, 60 per cent for 1971-81 period, and declined to 50 per cent for the 1981-91 period. Migrants born outside the Capital Territory constituted 50 per cent of the population of Delhi urban agglomeration in 1971, 47 per cent in 1981 and 40 per cent in 1991. In the five years preceding the 1991 Census, about 8,83,500 in-migrants settled in the Territory ofDelhi, almost 90 per centofwhom settled in the Delhi urban agglomeration.

Catchment Area ofMigrants in Delhi The trauma ofpartition and the massive flow ofrefugees is directly reflected in the composition ofmigrants found living in Delhi in 1951,47 per cent of whom were born in Pakistan. With the direct demographic impact of this specific migration flow fading out over time, the contribution of migrants from foreign countries has declined. At the 1991 Census, 9 per cent of the total migrants in Delhi were recorded as having come from abroad, and only 3 per cent of those who had arrived in the last 5 years. For a better appraisal of the composition of internai migratory flows, certain salient characteristics ofthe Indian urban system need to be recalled. The network of Indian cities is quite elaborate without primacy of a single metropolis at the nationallevel. In 1991, 23 Indian cities had more than one million inhabitants. Ofthese, 5 had a population ofover 5 million with Delhi ranking third in size. Itis this 'competition' with other big metropolises at the nationallevel that explains why the catchment area ofDelhi is mainly regional. More than two-thirds of the migrants (whatever their duration of residence) living in Delhi in 1991 come from the neighbouring states of 236 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT north India: Haryana, Punjab, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. This last giant state (the most populous in India) accounts for as much as 46 per cent of Delhi's migrants. This can be explained largely by its size. In 1991 Uttar Pradesh had a population of 139 million, that is 1.7 times more than the population of the other three states put together. Only 20 per cent ofDelhi migrants came from the remaining parts oflndia (beyond the Delhi National Capital Territory and its four neighbouring states) despite the fact that this vast area contains three-quarters ofthe total population ofthe country. With the exception of Bihar, the other Indian states have contributed only marginally to the migrant population in Delhi (see Figure 13.1). While the contribution of the neighbouring states of Delhi was already predominant in previous decades, the emergence ofBihar in the catchment area of Delhi migrants is more recent. This phenomena is best highlighted by examining the evolution of the distribution of recent migrants (with l2 less than 5 years of residence) II according to thei. place of ûrigin (see Maps 13.8, 13.9, 13.10 and 13.11). Among the recent migrants residing in Delhi in 1991, 11 per cent had come from Bihar, as against only 1 per cent in 1961.

Rural/Urban Origin ofMigrants Although majority ofthe migrants in Delhi come from rural areas, it is worth noting that as many as 44 per cent of the total migrants residing in the territory of Delhi in 1991 were from urban areas. This is ail the more remarkable given that India is a predominantly rural country (in 1991, 74 per cent ofthe population ofIndia were living in rural areas). The relative proportion ofmigrants coming from rural and urban areas varies according to both the state oforigin and distance from the capital. With the exception of Punjab,13 migrants coming from Delhi's neighbouring states and from Bihar are mostly from rural areas: for example, 71 per cent ofmigrants from Bihar, 61 to 63 per cent of those from Haryana, Rajasthan and Uttar Pradesh. On the other hand, the majority ofmigrants (67 per cent) from the rest of India come to Delhi from urban places. A similar pattern of rural/urban differentiation according to state oforigin was also found in previous decades.

Demographie and Socio-Eeonomie Charaeteristies ofthe Migrant Population in Delhi As in other big Indian metropolises, majority of the migrants in Delhi are male, due to the large numbers of men who come to the capital in search of work, leaving their families behind in their native places. For example, 54 pel' cent of the total migrants residing in the territory of Delhi in 1991 were male, and this proportion has remained almost unchanged since 1961 (56 per cent). The age structure of the migrant population in Delhi reveals an over- SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHIe GROWTH Of DELHI 237

representation ofthe age group 15-29 years among both males and females: hence in 1991,51 per cent ofmigrants residing in Delhi for less than 5 years belonged to this age group, as against only 30 per centofthe total population of the territory of Delhi. This is also a common characteristic of migration flow towards other Indian cities. In terms of educationallevel, the comparison between migrants living in Delhi for less than 5 years and the total population ofthe National Capital Territory reveals two interesting features. In the population aged 15 and above, the percentage of illiterates among migrants is higher than among the total population, although the gap is notverywide (25 per cent as against 20 for males, and 41 per centas against 38 for females in 1991). At the top of the educational scale, the proportion ofmigrants educated up to graduate level or above is almost similar to that observed in the total population (16 per cent as opposed to 17 per cent). These characteristics underline the diversity ofthe migrant population in terms ofeducational capital, and reveal that Delhi attracts not only large number ofilliterate migrants but also highly qualified sections of the population. The socio-economic diversity of the migrant population in Delhi is confirmed by the occupational structure of migrants, as analysed on the basis of the 1981 Census data on migrants who have come to Delhi for employment reasons14 (a group which represents 51 per cent of male migrants, but only 5 per cent of female migrants). A comparison between the occupational structure of the total working population of urban Delhi and that of migrants who had been in the capital for less than 5 years in 1981 revealed no salient distortions between the two distributions, although migrant workers were proportionally over-represented in production, transportation and construction work (54 per cent as against 41 per cent) and in service work at the expense of clerical and sales work. As one would expect of a multi-functional diverse capital of the size of Delhi, the urban labour market attracts very diverse categories of workers, from unskilled casuallabourers and construction workers to highly qualified civil servants and professionals.

Reasons for Migration: The Specifie Pull ofthe Labour Market Employment constitutes the most significant factor of migration for men: 68 pel' cent ofmigrants of rural origin residing in the territory of Delhi in 1991 and 59 pel' cent of those of urban origin had come to Delhi for employment reasons. Yet, among female migrants only 4 pel' cent had migrated for this reason, without any particular variation between those of rural and urban origin. The main reasons for female migration were families moving house and marriage which altogether accounted respectively for 48 pel' cent and 40 pel' cent of the female migrants living in the territory of Delhi in 1991. The migration survey conducted by the National Sample Survey 238 VÉRONIQUE DUPONT

Organization in 1987-8 (forty-third round) revealed clearly the specific pull of the capital's labour market, by comparison to other Indian towns and cities. Whereas 66 pel' cent of male migrants who arrived in the last 10 years came for employment reasons, only 49 pel' cent of those arriving in other Indian towns and cities gave employment as their majn reason for migrating; the corresponding proportions among female migrants were 10 and 5 pel' cent respectively.

To conclude, let us synthesize the main characteristics of the process of metropolization at work in and around Delhi. The population growth ofthe capital in the post-Independence period has been remarkably rapid for an urban agglomeration ofthis size, notwithstanding its slowdown over the last decades. This took place along with a trend ofpopulation deconcentration, including depopulation of the old city core, combined with a process of suburbanization which is reflected in the fast growth of peripheral zones. This centrifugaI pattern of population dynamics has spread beyond the administrative boundaries of the National Capital Territory with the rapid development of satellite towns. Migration has played a major l'ole in the demographic evolution of Delhi. As expected of a large multi-functional metropolis providing ample employment opportunities, the capital city has attracted a great diversity ofmigrants, both in tenns oftheil' socio-economic backgrounds and their rural/urban origin. Yet, the catchment area of the capital remains dominated by the neighbouring states.

SOURCE OF POPUIATION STATISTICS Census oflndia 1951, 1961, 1971, 1981 and 1991. Census of India 1951, Punjab Population Sub-zone, General Population, Age and Social Tables. Census oflndia 1961, vol. XIX, Delhi, Migration Tables. Census oflndia 1971, Series 27, Delhi, Migration Tables. Census oflndia 1971, Series 27, Delhi, District Census Handhooh, Delhi: Directorate of Census Operations, 1972. Census oflndia 1981, Series 28, Delhi, District Census Handhooh, Delhi: Directorate of Census Operations, 1983. Census oflndia 1981, Series 28, Delhi, Migration Tables, Socio-cultur:ll Tables. CensllS oflndia 1991, Series 31, Delhi, District Census Handhook, Village and Townwise Primary Census Abstract, Delhi: Directorate ofCensus Operations, 1992. Census ofIndia 199l, Series 31, Delhi, Migration Tables, Social and Cultural Tables, Delhi: Directorate of Census Operations (on floppies). National Sample Survey Organization, 'InternaI r.ligration (AH India): NSS 43rd round (1987-88)', SaT1Jehshana, 51st Issue, vol. XV, no. 4, April:June 1992.

NOTES

1. A detailed analysis of the spati.tl differentials of population ~rowth and densities at the charge (œnsus division) level according to 1981 and 1991 Census data can be found in V. Dupont and A. Mitra, 'Population Distribution, Growth and Socio-economic Spatial SPATIAL AND DEMOGRAPHie GROwrH OF DELHI 239

Patterns in Delhi. Findings l'rom the 1991 Census Data', Dnnography India, vol. 24,1995, nos. 1 and 2, pp. 101-32. 2. ]. Brush, 'Growth and Spatial Structure of Indian Cities', in A.G. Nobel and A.K. Dutt (eds.), Indian Urbanization and Planning, Vehides o(Modemization, New Delhi: Tata McGraw Hill, 1977, pp. 64-93. 3. ]. Brush, 'Recent Changes in Ecological Patterns of Metropolitan Bombay and Delhi', in v.K. Tewari,].A. Weistein and V.L.S.P. Rao (eds.), Indirtn Cities: Efological Pers/leclives, New Delhi: Concept, 1986, pp. 121-49. 4. Ch.j. Billand. Delhi Case Study: Formai Serviced Larul Develo/lment, New Delhi: USAlD, 1990. pp. 2-7. 5. Government of National Capital Territory of Delhi (Planning Department), 'Back­ grounder', State Level Seminar on Approach to Ninth Five Year Plan (1997-2002), Delhi: Government of National Capital Territory of Delhi, December 1996, p. II. 6. For a glimpse ofeveryday life in a squatter settlement, see Saraswati Haider's essay, and for insight into the development ofsium clearance and resettlemeot programmes, see Emma Tarlo's essay, in this volume. 7. SIum &Jhuggi-:Jhonpri Department, Municipal Corporation of Delhi. 8. For insight ioto the development ofrich unauthorised colonies, see Anita Soni's essay, in this volume. 9. According to estimates l'rom the Sampie Registration System, the average natural rate of increase in the urban areas of Delhi was 2.0 per cent per year l'rom 1971 ta 1980, and 2.1 per cent l'rom 1981 ta 1990. 10. National Capital Region Planning Board, RegionalPlan ZO()J, National Ca/litai Region, Delhi: Ministry of Urban Development, Government of India, 1988, p. 9. Il. Except in the 1961 Census where it corresponds to a duration of residence in Delhi of 5 years or less. , 12. 'Place of origin' refers ta the place of birth in the 1961 Census and to the place of Iast previous residence in subsequent censuses (1971,1981 and 1991). The Maps 13.3,13.9, 13.10 and 13.11 pertain only to migrants whose place of origin was located in India. For an appraisal of the evolution ofthe share offoreign countries among the migrants' places oforigin, see Figure 13.1. 13. Only 28 per ceot of migrants coming l'rom Punjab are of rural origin. 14. The corresponding table for the 1991 Census has not been released.

N t

-- Boundanes of the Delhi Metropoliten Area __ Boundanes of the National capital TerTitory of Delhi

• Zones urbanlzed belore 1950

• Zones urbanizad between 1950 and 1969/75 o 10 km ~ Zones urbanlzed between 1969/75 and 1997 1 1

Squrœr: Survey of (ndia, J950, scale J:63,360, ©v. Dupont, IRD Survey of India, 1970, 1976, 19RU, ""ale 1:50,000, Image IRSI-C 1997. lnterp,.l

MAP 13.1 SPATIAL EXPAJ"ISION OF URBANIZED ZONES IN THE DELHI METROPOLITAN AREA FROM 1950 TO 1997. O'OldDelhi

N t ~

Increase 569,488

146,122

5,000 Boundaries of the National E Capital Territory of Delhi Absolute increase of population Limits of urban zones in Delhi between 1981-1991 according to 1991 census

o 5 10km t t t

S,mm: ofdI./IJ: Census of India, District Census Handbook, Delhi, 1981 & 1991. © V. Dupon!, IRD Digiliud map: R.M.S.1. (New Delhi), Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Regards CNRS-IRD, Bordeaux).

MAP 13.2a INCREASE AND DECR.Ei\SE Of POPULATION FROM 1981 TO 1991 IN DIFFERENT ZONES OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRJTORY OF DELHI. 5.000 Boundaries of the National Capital Territory of Delhi

Absolute decrease of population Limits of urban zones in Delhi between 1981-1991 according to 1991 census

o 5 10km

1 1 1

Samu ofda/a: Census of India, District Census Handbook. Delhi, 1YBI & 1991. © V. Dupont. IRD Digiliud map: R.M.S.I. (New Delhi). Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Reg-ards CNRS-IRD. Bordeaux).

MAP 13.2b INCREASE AND DECREASE OF POPULATION FROM 1981 TO 1991 IN DIFFERENT ZONES OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERlUTORY OF DELHI. O:OldDelhi N ~ Î ~

Annual growth rate 01 the population Irom 1981 to 1991 (%) [10,36 [

[7,10 [ Boundaries 01 the National [4 7 [ 1:::::::1...... ' Capital Territory of Delhi

CJ[2,4[ Limits of urban zones according to 1991 census 1,>1 [0,2[

D[-3.5,0[ o 5 10km 1 1 1

SUUlCe ufduta: Censlis of Indla, District Censlis Handbook, Delhi, 19HI & 1991. © V. Dupont, IRD DiJiitiwl mal': R.M.S.1. (New Delhi), Laboratoire de Canographie-IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Regards CNRS-I RD , Bordeaux).

MAP 13,3 ANNUAL GROWfH RATE OF THE POPULATION FROM 1981 TO 1991 IN DIFFERENT ZONES Of THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRITORY OF DELHI. O:OIdDBlhi N ...... t ~......

Number 01 inhabitants per hectare in 1991

~ [500, 1700 [

• [300,5OO[ Boundarie8 ollhe Nallonal !::::::...... :1 1200 , 300 1 Capital Terrltory 01 Delhi [3 [100,2oo[ L1mlls 01 urban zones according 10 1991 census kI1 50 ,100[ o 5 10km DI4,501 ! 1 1

Sauru ofdata: Census ofIndia 1991, District Census Handbook, Delhi. lC> V. Dupont, IRD Digiliud map: R.M.5.1. (New Delhi), Laboratoire de Carlographie-IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Regards CNRS-IRD, Bordeaux).

MAP 13.4 POPUlATION DENSITIES IN DIFFERENT ZONES OF THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRITORYOF DELHI IN 1991. \ / UTIAR \ PRADESH

§l .~ ~ Resett1ement colonies 1 with squatters / ~ W N 1 () < 1 000 Jhuggis / ..- o ..-. ..-. if ...-. J en 1 001-5000 Jhuggis w t \ a:: • '-__-.1. -"Ok'" / HARYANA :::l1 @ 5 00 1- 15 000 Jhuggis ,. \ =>

Source: Sabir Ali. Siums williin Siums: a ,-ludy ofres

MAP 13.5 LOCATION OF RESETTLEMENT COLONIES IN DELHI URBAN AGGLOMERATION. \ / UTTAR , PRADESH

'"~ ~ ...... { / 1 ::lE J N / W - ~ HARYANA (J) t w Skm 1 f oc HARYANA ::lE 1 \ =>

Source: SIum &JhuggiJhonpri Deparunenl, Municipal Corporation of Delhi. © V. Dupont, IRD

MAP 13.6. LOCATION OF SQUATTER SETTLEMENTS IN DELHI URBAN AGGLOMERATION. N t

-- Boundaries of the Delhi Metropolilan Area

,,::== Yamuna river

,Urban zones of Delhi, according to 1991 cansus l2Z1 Other urban zones in the Metropolitan Area D Rural zones o 10 km • Historical cenlre: Old Delhi 1 1

Souru.: Composed on the basis of the following map" © V. Dupont. IRD 'Map of Delhi' in Cmru., nJ India 1991, Dist,ùt CensIlS Handhook, Delhi, DireClOrate of Cen

MAP 13.7 DELHI METROPOUTAN AREA: THE CENTRAL URBAN AGGLOMERATION AND ITS PERIPHERAL TOWNS. Place of origin

Foreign countries

Other states in India

Bihar

Ullar Pradesh

Rajasthan

CJI991

1981 Punjab 0 ~1971

1961

.1951

Haryana

o 10 20 30 40 50% Percentage of migrants

NB. In 1951 and 1961, migrants trom Haryana were caunred with rhase trom Punjab.

Soma: Censusoflndia, Migration Tables, 1951, 1961, 1971, 1981, 1991. © V. Dupont, [RD

FlG.13.1 PERCENTAGE DISTRIBUTION OF MIGRANTS IN THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRlTORYOF DELHI BYPLACE OF ORIGIN (1951-91). N t

Number of migrants 397,583

99,400 E 1,767 500 km

S=TUOjdala: Census (lflndia 1961, Vol. XIX Delhi, Migration Tables. © V. Dupont, (RD Digiliud map: Ph. Cadene al lhe French Instilllle of Pondicherry,. Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Rcg-drds CNRS-IRD, Bordeaux).

MAP 13.8 NUMBER Of RECENT MIGRANTS IN THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRlTORYOf DELHI IN 1961 BYSTATE Of ORIGIN (DURATION Of RESIDENCE: 5 YEARS OR LESS). N t

Number of migrants 397,583

99,400 E 1,767 500 km

Source 01data: Censl1s of India 1971, Series 27 Delhi, Migration Tables. © V. Dupont, (RD' Digitiud map: Ph. Cadène at the French Institute of Pondicherry, Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy), F. Dureau (UMR Regards CNRS-IRD, Bordeaux).

MAP 13.9 NUMBER OF RECENT MIGRANTS IN THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRITORYOF DELHI IN 1971 BY STATE OF ORlGIN (DURATION OF RESIDENCE: LESS THAN 5 YEARS). N t

Number of migrants 397,583

99,400 E 1,767 500 km

SOl/lU oJdala: Census oflndia J981, Series 28 Delhi, Migration Tables. © V. Dupont, [RD Digiliwi map: Ph. Cadène al the French InSlitut.e of Pondicherry, Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy). F. Dureaù (UMR Regard CNRS-IRD, Bordeaux).

MAP 13.10 NUMBER OF RECENT MIGRAi'\jTS IN THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRITORYOF DELHI IN 1981 BYSTATE OF ORlGIN (DURAT10N OF RESIDENCE: LESS THAN 5 YEARS). N t

Number of migrants 397,583

99,400 E 1,767 500 km

SOUTe< ofdola: Census of lndia 1991, Series 31 Delhi, Migration Tables. © V. Dupont, IRD Digi/iud map: Ph. Cadène al the French Institute of Pondicherry, Laboratoire de Cartographie IRD (Bondy), F. Dureall (UMR Rel,,,,rd CNRS-IRD, Bordeallx).

MAP 13.11 NUMBER OF RECENT MIGRANTS IN THE NATIONAL CAPITAL TERRlTORYOF DELHI IN 1991 BYSTATE OF ORIGIN (DURATION OF RESIDENCE: LESS THAN 5 YEARS).

"' ..... ~ .. ~-1--."' .-- {7 100 r 1 .' -' - AFGHANISTAN; - 50 .' The share 25 \ _.--" of public sector , 17 ,'- CHINA 5 \ Cl a PAKISTAN , , , o

" ! ..... -.

BURMA

Bay of Bengal

1 NOl AN Number of headquarters a o C EAN ..

©UMR ESPACE, Ph. Cadène. 1999 Sourceofdara·CM.I.E.. 1992

MA? 14.1 HEADQUARTERS OF LARGE-5CALE FIRMS: THE SHARE OF THE PUBLIC SECTOR. ,<.~.'~-,,- 1 \ 100 r f _ 34 AFGHANISTAN; .. 12 i \' - ~ o \. ./ Control Index 7 1 f 1 03 CH/NA 0 0,1 Do PAKISTAN

/ ,/.'., ,1 1

1./ ....

Bay of Ben ga /

{J Q Number al plants Çl IND/AN (1992-1993) o o C E A N 338 .' 83

200 km

'" U~. R ESPACE. Ph. Cadène, ,999 Source of data 'Institut Français de Pondl'chéry, Centre for MOniloring of India Economy

MAl' 14.2 LOCAL CONTROL Of IN DUSTRlAL PRODUCTION, Number 01 banks for 10 000 inhabitanls AFGHANISTAN; ,. .5,4 i r- -,; .1,8 , 1,2 1 0,8 CHINA 0,5 ,-- PAKISTAN 0,2 ", / /,,- " 1'" \. -",.

1 "

l,;' -

BURMA

Bay of Bengal

Number of banks o () by cilies or lowns (l' IND/AN a o C EAN

«> UMR ESPACE, Ph. Cadène, 1999 Source of dala "C.M.I.E., 1989 l'vIAP 14,3 THE DENSITYOf BANKS IN CITIES AND TOWNS LARGER THAN 50,000 INHABITANTS, Number of R & 0 Institutions 87 AFGHANISTAN; / \ ( ,/ _ '\ ) 26 , r CHINA \\'--'.1- :/

'. PAKISTAN , _ ...., '\ 1 ,- /' -..;.

...... '\ ...... J." .... "1\ -, i • .' .i , • .' 1/ -. r _. _' .... \ i'BANGCA;ESc/ • " , 1 i ,". / "J' 1 .... ':, :\ \. f). 'r .;." • • ::..---- i'\ BURMA (; j L\ Bay of 1 Bengal 1v\

1 NOl A N a o C E A N

."

(f) UMR ESPACE. Ph. Cadène. 1999 Source of data Research and Developmenl. 1991-92

MAr 14.4 RESEARCH AND DEVELOPMENT INSTITUTIONS CONTROLLED BYTHE CENTRAL GOVERNMENT _100 i AFGHANISTAN i ,. 90 % of courses _ 75 \" _.," : i in English _ 50 " .... Cl 2~ CHINA /

PAKISTAN /" -.1

//',. .-' ,. 1 '. 1 ; .> /" _...... -.,).' ••• './-

Bay of Bengal

o o 1 NOl AN Q' o CEAN Q Number of universilies and allied institutions .. 39 13 ~__--,2:.:JOOkm 1

UMR ESPACE, Ph Cadene. 1999 SOU1CO~' dara Um .... ersity Handbook. 1990, Association ollndian UniversIty

MAP 14.5 THE UNIVERSITIES, i .... /.-:.)~-:J. .... '. _ r 'r 55 AFGHANISTAN~· -, 1 34 j % of newspapers i published in English 17 , 8 i" CHINA D~

PAKISTAN '. r" - i , 1 ,/.\ '" 1._ ," ... ~ / ~. 1 /'. .... r .\.\ .' 'BHUTAN-, '. \. -. _.- - .... , 1 , .- t _ .... - , 1 , , .' ..... - .-._. \ ~ANGt.iDESi4 ~.~ - ...... _. 1,/ .... 1 .- \ ..... j~~BURMA .. B.~~al // u· \ \ INDIAN\ Number of newspapers aCE A N 138 44 ..

3 o 20? km G o UMR ESPACE. Ph. Cadène, 1999 SourCB of data· Mass Media in India, Mlnislry ollnformallOn and Broadcasllng Governmenl of India, 1994

~'IAP 14.6 CITJES AND TOWNS WlTH MORE THAl\! ]00 NEWSPAPERS IN 1989. c \ ... r - -. AFGHANISTAN; , /

CHINA

PAKISTAN e.

i/ \- i

e ., •• \ , •

," ...... ,.:. ,; 1,/ - _ .0.·-e.

il Q (lO INOIAN NuOl er 01 plants 992-1993) a o C EAN 338 .' 83

4;) UMA ESPACE. Ph. Cadène. 1999 Source 01 data' C.M.I.E .. 1993 l'vlAP 14.7 PRODUCTION UNITS BY ECONOMIC ACTMTY. 100 % of plants in 99 AFGHANISTAN~ i the towns with 75 i o they headquater 1 50 \ • in Delhi in the CHINA totality of plants o 25 D~ PAKISTAN "-- ,.,... ~- .....\ , . NEPAL '.,..... _.':"'-;'" ._...... \~ '., . "\...... -. - /~ i~~~T~_-.! •/ , •• ...... _." ... ' .... ,• r' \." • 0 • • ""':..> i._._._ ._;. • ;' •• • ~ANGLADESH 0 ; 1. ",'-' • • " ",' f ..... • ·0 • • • 0 •• • • • 0 • 0 • Bay • of • Benga/ •

IND/AN Number of plants Q aCE AN 37 12 .' 1

• Delhi o UMR ESPACE, Ph. Cadène, 1999 Soure. of data' C.M.I.E., 1992 - 1993

MA? 14.8 ECONOMIC PLACES CONTROLLED BY DELHI. Number of rooms in three stars .r .-'- international hotels 6210 1" -,~.

, 1680 i\· ..... CH/NA \ ,, '("- 16 /.-...... PAKISTAN

0) .' o ,. 1 o 0 1 i

.JO_ ...... <"._. J3f.NGLADESJI

BURMA

/ND/AN Q o C EAN .'

i;; UMR ESPACE. Ph. Cadène, 1999 Source of data. Federation ot HOlels and Restaurants Associated ollndia. 1993

MAP 14.9 INTERNATIONAL HOTELS. i,~ ~. ;,~ ~ J-." 100

AFGHANISTAN-' 1., .".- .~ 75 ; I:J % of exports 60 1. in total \ - ~. foreing exchanges 50 , 40 ,v CHINA .. CJ 30 .( - , - - PAKISTAN

,, \

·_· ... ~ : e J

Foreign exchanges (in millions of rupees) ______-' 412100 INDIAN (/ \ Q aCE AN \c~J":: ." '--_----:200::;, km

If) UMR ESPACE, Ph. Cadène, 1999 Sou'ce of da la . C.M.I E.. 1993

MAI' 14.\0 FOREIGN EXCHANGES. 14

Delhi's Place in India's Urban Structure

PHILIPPE CADÈNE

Delhi's history since Independence charts the graduai emergence, first ofa national capital, and second of a great international agglomeration. It also highlights the affirmation of a new regional capital in a country, the organization of which had until then been carried out from three ports built by and for the British colonial regime: Calcutta, Mumbai and Chennai. Examined in this essay are the stages and processes leading to Delhi's new status as part ofthe network oftowns and spatial organization ofthe country. The aim is also to present the economic, social, political and spatial dynamics of the capital of the Indian Union during the 1990s. This decade has been crucial for the evolution of Delhi as it had been for the Indian society and indeed the world order. It has seen the emergence of a new system of capital accumulation which benefits major financial institutions and companies, but threatens entire sectors ofactivities, raising unemployment to a very high level in many areas of the world. Shaking the basis of the former divide between developed and developing countries, it creates a new world in which regions (and other countries) are ranked in a hierarchy according to their degree ofintegration within the global economy. The 1990s began with the faB ofthe Soviet Union and heralded the triumph of the liberal mode!. But it is also notable for the reconstruction and restoration of balances at the planetary level, the setting up ofa new system of capital accumulation and the integration of societies and regions within the global dynamic. The emergence of Delhi on the national and international scene, as also the emergence of a vast region centred around the agricultural and industrial plains of Haryana and Punjab (it was to the east of this that the ancient capital of the Mughal Empire was built) must be considered in this global context. It is a case of illustrating the place and the role of this agglomeration of nearly ten million inhabitants, first within the process of the unification of national space and second within the process of the integration of Indian urban places and regions into global networks. This reflection is based on an analysis of a series of maps. These are presented in the illustrations' section preceding this chapter. The maps have been taken from an economic atlas oflndia, which is currently in press. The 242 PHILIPPE CADENE image which emerges of Indian territory and of the place of Delhi within the urban structure is built from an analysis of the maps taken as a whole. A map should not be considered independent from the series in which it is includedjust as a town should not be isolated from the others within a map. The data used presents only the main shape of the Indian territory and the main structure of the activities it describes. In each map, only the biggest companies and economic actors are represented. The numerous small-scale units and household producers, so important to Indian development, are excluded due to the non-accessibility ofadequate data. But most ofthem, in most parts ofthe country, are closely located within the areas ofdevelopment shown in the maps. Hence, their absence does not radically change the image of the economy presented here. Finally, the social consequences of development, whether good or bad, are not presented in the maps; this is beyond the scope of this exercise. The sources of information are varied: national census data; data bases compil~d by professional organizations from both the public and pr:vate sectors; and professional almanacs. AlI figures refer to the period 1991 to 1994. They are strictly economic in nature and have already been published. They provide a measure of economic development at a particular point in history, and give a picture ofthe distribution ofeconomic activities at an all­ India level.

EMERGENCE OF A NATIONAL CAPITAL In tlfe Indian political and administrative system, Delhi stands out cleariy as the capital, the city in which is concentrated the totality ofinstitutions, directly or indirectly connected to this function. Delhi is the city ofministries, ofthe Parliament, of the ruling bodies ofall major political parties ofthe country, of the represe!1tative bodies of the twenty-five states that form the Indian Union. Delhi is also the city where the headquarters of public sector companies are located, such as the national airlines, the national railway board and the census board. AlI foreign delegations and international organizations are also located here. With regard to economic power, calculated on the basis of the location of the headquarters of major companies, Delhi cannot compare with Mumbai. Mumbai's role in this sphere has beenvital ever since the collapse of Calcutta, caused partly by the departure of British settlers who formed the backbone of entrepreneurial force in the city and partly due to the creation of East Pakistan (later Bangladesh), which separated companies responsible for the wealth of the city from the jute growing areas which provided the raw mat~rial. Whereas Mumbai deariy dominates the urban landscape, Delhi apparently competeswith Calcuttafor second place in the hierarchy oflndian ci ties. This fact emerges from an analysis ofthe headquarters ofthe principIe enterprises based in these cities. Delhi and Calcutta are practically on a par ifwe consider the location of the headquarters of 2,000 major companies, DELHI'S PLACE IN INDIA'S URBAN STRUCTURE 243 but Delhi has an edge when 500 of the most important companies are considered, especially those with linkages ta foreign firms. Delhi owes its position in this sphere partly to its status as the capital city. The headquarters of the main public sector companies, in fact, account for half of the headquarters based in the agglomeration. This proportion is superior to thatofother cities, although in absolute numbers Mumbai wins hands down and Calcutta and Delhi share second place (see Map 14.1). Ifeconomic activities are taken into consideration, Delhi, like Calcutta, Chennai or , is favoured by companies manufacturing capital goods, whereas Mumbai is preferred as the headquarters of chemical companies. The specific characteristics ofthe different sectors nevertheless show that the Delhi agglomeration, though it rarely dominates, holds a significant place in the totality of sectors, with the exception of the pharmaceutical industry where Mumbai dominates over Calcutta and Bangalore. Delhi, alongside Mumbai, occupies the top position as the headquarters offertilizer and construction companies; it cornes second after Mumbai in the field of transport equipment and electronics; second after Calcutta for mechanical consumer goods; third after Mumbai and Calcutta in the case of metallurgy, machine tools, chemicals, electrical goods, and agro-food companies; fourth alongside Calcutta in the field of textiles, but behind Mumbai, Ahmedabad and Coimbatore. True, certain branches carry greater weight than others and a sectoral analysis shows the importance that long-established economic development confers on Mumbai and Calcutta. The capacity to control the economy-calculated as the correlation between the number of headquarters in one place and the number of manufacturing companies that it has and controis in the territory-similarly illustrates Delhi's place among the majbr Indian cities (see Map 14.2). If Chennai's strength is even more evident, Delhi, like Mumbai and Calcutta, nonetheless exerts its influence on the entire country. Furthermore, unlike Mumbai-which clearly dominates the scene-and ta a greater extent than Calcutta, Delhi has a greater number of manufacturing companies, the headquarters ofwhich are situated elsewhere. This last point is confirmed byan analysis of the locational patterns of manufacturing units, which show how far removed Delhi is from Mumbai and even Calcutta and Chennai with regard to industrial employment. In this respect, Delhi is closer to two second-level agglomerations in the Indian industrial hierarchy, Bangalore and Hyderabad. Industrial economy is not, however, the only factor on which the power ofa metropolis can bejudged. Delhi is, in fact, strongly placed in the banking sector (see Map 14.3). it has as many banks as its two chief rivais and even outdoes Calcutta, but remains second to Mumbai with regard to the volume of transactions conducted. It concentrates visibly on monetaryvalues, disbursing more credit and receiving fewer deposits. In the field of education, research and communication, Delhi plays a major role largely because of its political position (see Maps 14.4, 14.5 and 14.6). Ifresearch and developmertt in the private sector takes place mainly 244 PHILIPPE CADÈNE in Mumbai, Delhi dearly dominates in research and development initiated by the central government. Similarly, if Mumbai cornes first with regard to the number ofdoctorates obtained in the sciences, and Delhi's universities only manage an equal position with the universities of Chennai, Bangalore, Varanasi and Kanpur, nevertheless, the universities ofthe Delhi region show considerable prowess. Besides, the capital can boast ofmany other excellent institutes oflearning. While management institutes are not its strong point, it is in the forefront in the fields of humanities, communications, social and political sciences. This is explained parùy by the political and administrative institutions in Delhi as weil as by its role in the televisual, radiophonie, journalistic and literary spheres. Delhi occupies first place with regard to the English language dailies. It is overwhelmingly the major player in the publishing industry more generally, with more than one-third of its publications being printed in English. Delhi is also an important centre in the health sector. With institutions like the Ali India Institute of Medical Sciences located there, the city can offer a particular high quality ofhealth services. Political ipstitutions, headquarters of major companies, universities, prestigious research institutes, national television channels, principle dailies and publishing houses, state-of-the-art hospitals-in brief, ail the factors necessary to enable Delhi to become part of the national and international economic network are present. However, this situation would not have been possible if, during the period Delhi was consolidating its position in the country, this great agglomeration of the Indo-Gangetic plain had not also been establishing itself as the pivot of a powerful region undergoing development.

THE POWER-POTENTIAL OF A RAPIDLYGROWING ECONOMIC REGION Delhi is situated in the heart ofa tighùy knit group oftowns ofvarious sizes, found to the west ofan immense, fertile and densely populated plain which stretches from the Pakistani frontier ta the Gangetic Delta. This part of the Indo-Gangetic plain is constituted mainly by the Punjab, which was divided between India and Pakistan at the time ofPartition. The Indiari side is itself divided into two states-Punjab and Haryana, to the south-east ofwhich the National Capital Territory of Delhi is situated. In the course ofhistory, this region has received the highest investrnents in the field ofagricultural irrigation. Itwas the first to try out new techniques brought in by the Green Revolution in the 1960s, and it is in this region that agricultural yields are highest, whether in rice, wheat, maize or cotton. It consumes the maximum amount of fertilizers and has the highest rate of mechanized agriculture. Industrial development in the region is notfat behind. Manyenterprises have located themselves in the area, their density enabling one ta talk about the existence of a vast industrial corridor of 400 km, which forms a sort of DELHI'S PlACE IN INDIA'S URBAN STRUG'TURE 245

circular arc, encompassing the districts of west Punjab near the Pakistani . border, north-east Rajasthan and south-east Uttar Pradesh. Less dense and less powerfuI than the corridor measuring 600 km which foIlows the coast of the Arabian Sea, north ofAhmedabad to south of Mumbai, this industrial corridor of north-west India seems to possess a greater manufacturing capacity than the third and last industrial corridor situated to the south of the Deccan, and centred around the towns of Bangalore in Karnataka, Coimbatore in Tamil Nadu and Cochin in Kerala. The specific characteristics and inherent power ofthe industrial corridor ofwhich Delhi is a part, lies in the diversityofthe economic activities present there. Like the industrial corridor in which Mumbai is situated, and unlike the industrial sector of the Deccan, the north-west corridor includes areas of specialization as diverse as agro-food industries, textiles, capital goods industries, metaIlurgy, construction and chemicals. The ditTerences appear along the length ofa corridorwhich is constructed around IWo pivotaI points: the western pivot is the city ofLudhiana, and the eastern pivot is Delhi. The articulation between the two occurs in Chandigarh which is the capital of the two neighbouring states of the Punjab, where Ludhiana is located, and Haryana to the east of which lies the territory of Delhi. The agro-food industries are equaIly distributed between the two. The construction industry is mostly concentrated in Delhi and its neighbourhood. The metaIlurgical industry is located in the east and stretches across Haryana to Rajasthan in the west, and to the south ofDelhi. Machine tools are manufactured in Delhi and its periphery, but also in Ludhiana and its neighbourhood. Industries manufacturing transport equipment are distributed in various places in the corridor. Mechanical consumer goods industries are concentrated in the city of Delhi and in the smaIl Punjabi industrial complex of SAS Nagar. Chemical industries are to be found everywhere, but the greater part of their production is concentrated in Delhi. Fertilizer manufacturing units are relatively weIl distributed in the corridor. However, pharmaceutical industries are generaIly not weIl represented. Electric equipment is mainly to be found in Delhi and its periphery, while the electronics industry is very much present in the two core areas (see Map 14.7). Through the headquarters ofthe various cornpanies located there, Delhi exerts strict control over this entire industrial space. Mumbai and Calcutta businessmen are present, but are not particularly powerful in this corridor. The difference between Mumbai and Calcutta resides only in the fact that whereas Mumbai has a smaIl but definite presence in the Punjabi towns, Calcutta's influence is more or less limited to the capital. Inversely, Delhi exerts its influence on practically aIl the towns and, as distance from the capital increases, so too does its influence (see Mar 14.8). Few industrial centres of the Indo-Gangetic plain seem capable of deciding their own economic futures. From this point ofview, political power seems to contribute to the creation of an urban hierarchy. Chandigarh, because of its status as the capital oftwo states, or SAS Nagar, the industrial complex set up as part ofthe policy decisions taken with regard to national development, harbour 246 PHILIPPE CADÈNE many company headquarters, particularly in the sectors of metallurgy, machines tools, mechanical consumer goods, chemicals and pharmaceuticals. Sorne towns, less influenced by power, have one or sometimes two company headquarters, but only in those sectors in which the relationship with the local environment is primordial, such as agro-foods or textiles. Although headquarters confine themselves to political centres or industrial towns created out of nothing, the private character of the big companies in the Punjab is a well-established fact, and sorne oftheir dynamism rubs offon the Punjabi business community, very much in evidence in the economic life of Delhi. Eversince the influx ofPunjabis to the capital as a result ofthe Partition ofIndia, the flow of migrants, this time from the Indian side of the Punjab, has been continuous, creating very strong links between Delhi and the towns and villages of Punjab and Haryana. Though situated at the extreme south-east end, Delhi, at the beginning of the twenty-first century, is the pivot of a powerful region, not only as the result of the industrial and agricultural developments but also for its varied activities in the service sector, developed within a tight network of towns of various sizes. These activities certainly coincide with economic development, but are also very significant indicators of the close linkageswhich exist within the region. Apart from Delhi which clearly dominates with its 84,19,084 inhabitants (1991 Census), the plains of the Punjab can boast of a very structured network of towns, controlled bya series ofbig agglomerations of which the most powerfuI are Ludhiana with 10,12,062 inhabitants (according to the 1991 Census), Amritsar, the religious centre ofthe Sikhs with 7,09,456 inhabitants, andJalandhar with 5,19,530 inhabitants. In the state ofHaryana, Faridabad has 6,13,828 inhabitants and lastly, Chandigarh, a capital of two states and a Union Territory, has 5,74,646 inhabitants. Thcse towns and many others smaller in size, offer numerous service activities which give them an important role in the economic structuration ofthe region. Banking institutions are specially numerous, dense, powerful, not only in the region but also in relation to the number of inhabitants. Universities and other institutions of higher education are numerous and highly active, particularly at the doctorate level, as also are the public research and development institutions. There are many dailies, and the publishing industry in general is flourishing with a major portion ofliterature published in the English language. Everything contributes to making the region a highly dynamic one, benefiting from an urban network in which human resources, money, goods and information circulate and where Delhi, fully integrated in this dynamic, plays a pivotai role and provides an opening to the outside world.

DELHI: PIVOT TO THE WORLD OUTSIDE Delhi would not have acquired legitimacy as the national capital without its integration within a region experiencing rapid growth. But it is also its capacity for exchanges and interactions at the international level that has DELHI'S PlACE IN INDIA'S URBAN STRUCTURE 247 enabled it to play a major role in the urban structure of the country. For Delhi to assume this role, the expansion of the air transport sector was necessary and this sector now dominates long-distance international passenger travel and has a considerable share in the transportaùon ofgoods. This phenomenon can be perceived through the acùvity ofDelhi's airports. Though second to Mumbai in respect of internaùonal and domesùc air traffic, no other town compares with the capital. . Theintense acùvity atDelhi airports is due to the dynamism ofthe region, its status as the political capital and the importance of India in the world. Delhi offers the largest number ofhotel rooms ofinternaùonal quality (see Map 14.9). Foreign tourists are conspicuous here, and the Indian capital is described at great length in guide books. The city has, indeed, a lot to offer thanks to its unique heritage-a result ofits chartered history as the capital oftwo great empires, the Mughal and the Briùsh. Much remains to be done to enhance the tourist potenùal ofthis huge èity constructed on the ruins of seven ancient capital ciÙes. Whether in front ofthe Red Fort, near the giganùc bazaar ofûld Delhi or walking in Connaught Place (city centre oflmperial Delhi), or whether relaxing in where Muslim mausoleums rub shoulders with business centres and luxurious modern houses in one of the most posh residenùal areas, tourists can capture something ofthe force that the capital ofindependent India represents. Apart from tourism, Delhi also plays host to many national and internaùonal conferences. In this regard, itdominates other ciùes, organizing as manyconferences in the field ofpure sciences as in the field ofeconomics and social sciences and religion. These conferences are, in turn, a source of business for the hotel industry. This activity is rendered possible because of the existence of numerous conference halls. Conferences are mainly organized by Indian insùtuùons. However, in order ofimportance, Germany, France, Great Britain, the United States and Canada also iniùate conferences in Delhi. Mumbai, which ranks second, has links only with Great Britain for organizing conferences while Bangalore which has the same ranking as Mumbai, has links with many European countries, especiaBy France. Leisure, tourism and conferences may be highly visible but we should not forget business travel. The latter is at the centre of the liberalization experienced by India since the early 1980s, a period in which there was a re­ thinking of the old development model promoted by Nehru, based on a drasùc policy of import subsÙtuùons and accompanied by the economic isolaùon ofthe country. The liberal model which advocates a mulùplicity of exchanges and the promotion ofexports is now favoured. It is responsible for an acceleraùon of growth but, at the same ùme, it threatens exisùng equilibria as weB as vested interests. It also widens income discrepancies amongst the populaùon. In India as elsewhere in the world, this economic liberalism places the big urban agglomeraùons at the centre of economic dynamics. The bigger cities increasingly become a place for privileged interacùonsand exchanges; and business travellers become important actors in the new economic system which is slowly emerging. 248 PHILIPPE CADÈNE

The volume offinancial exchange with foreign countries appears to be the c1assic indicator of the role of various localities (see Map 14.10). According to available data, Mumbai with its two ports cornes first among the Indian port-towns, outstripping Chennai and Calcutta. Despite being situated in the interior ofthe country, Delhi exceeds Calcutta in the value of goods exchanged and is quite close to Chennai. Bangalore, another exporting city, plays a relatively minor role. The capital, on the other hand, has a very well-developed export sector as nearly two-thirds of the total value of commercial exchange cornes from exports. Delhi seems to play a key role, along with Mumbai, with regard to the new policy which has placed exports in the forefront of economic development. The presence of major export companies in these two cities alone offers proof of the dynamism, with Mumbai outstripping Delhi. However, a product specialization study ofexport companies, in relation to the sites where they are located, reveals important differences. The Delhi agglomeration dominates the exportofa single product (rice) whereas Delhi and Mumbai are together in the forefront of textile and marble exports. These two cities along with Goa, also control copper exports and, along with Calcutta and Cochin in Kerala, tea exports. Delhi along with Calcutta and Chennai is at the forefront ofleather exports, leaving Mumbai lagging. Delhi also plays an important role in the export of carpets but several towns in Bihar control the market as this state in the Indo-Gangetic plain houses a large part of the national production. For other products, if Mumbai has a greater number of export companies, affirming its status as the economic capital of India, Delhi cornes off as a serious rival. This is the case with embroidery and silk where Delhi has the same standing as Calcutta; food products in which many coastal towns of Kerala taken together play an important role;jewellery for which both Delhi andJaipur come in second position after Mumbai. In pharmaceuticals Delhi and Mumbai share the same position though Mumbai's sphere ofinfluence extends to many Gujarati towns who support this activity. In the manufacture of machine tools, the two regions controlled by their respective metropolises play a key role, but the Mumbai region still dominates due to the forces and antecedents of industrial development. In software production Mumbai, Delhi, Calcutta and Chennai have the saille ranking. It is, however, interesting to note that Delhi does not have any major labour recruitment firms sending personnel abroad, Mumbai monopolizing all the headquarters with regard to this activity. Taking into account all of the factors examined so far: the importance ofDelhi's links with the hinterland; the potential ofeconomic development in this portion ofthe Indo-Gangetic plain; the weight ofthe Punjabi diaspora and Delhi's important place as a production centre of the country, it seems possible to consider the Delhi agglomeration a'powerful place and, above all, a transit base that the vast area in the north-west of the country can use for transactions outside India. Delhi's influence clearly outstrips its hinter­ land, over which it wields direct sway as seen in the maps dealing with urban structure and the distribution of activities. DELHI'S PLACE IN INDIA'S URBAN STRUCTURE 249

DELHI, AN INTERNATIONAL CITY? To conclude, the question that arises is what is the status of Delhi as an international city? The purpose of this notion of 'the international city', according to its use by geographers, is to categorize cities which are at the top ofan urban system (generally national ones) and can serve as a relay or transit base for other towns of this system, enabling the whole to integrate within global economic networks. Such international cities, also, necessarily have many superior tertiary functions which help them reinforce economic exchanges with exchanges in the field of culture, information and the arts. Thus, we are concerned with towns capable of acting as catalysts in the dynamics taking place at the globallevel, leading to the development of a new economic system based on the multiplicity ofexchanges with regard to men, capital and information. The demographic weight which India represents, reinforced by a powerful diaspora, an age-old civilization and its capacity to develop the most advanced technologies, contributes to the potential emergence of 'international cities'. Actively participating at the economic level but also in education and information in the building ofa national urban system, Delhi can obviously be defined as an 'international city', supported as it is by a powerful and growth-oriented hinterland and playing an important role in exports. Promoting industrial and cultural products as weil as Indian values in the world, this is one of the cities which enables India to take part in the massive exchanges induced by the process of globalization. The only agglomeration which rivaIs and in fact appears to dominate Delhi is Mumbai. But the power that India represents makes it possible for both metropolises to play a vital international role. Delhi, however, holds the trump card which enables it to challenge the economic superiority ofthe Maharashtrian port, byits position as the centre ofpolitical power, and because ofits domination in the fields of information and communications. Due to the recent emergence of Delhi at the regional and nationallevels, the capital appears capable ofassuming the role ofa veritable 'international city', at the head of a solid national urban system and of a powerful region.

Chronology of Significant Events in Delhi

NARAYANI GUPTA

1192 Delhi Sultanate established 1648 Shahjahanabad founded 1803 English Company captured Delhi 1857 The Great Revoit (India Mutiny) 1858 Mughal rule ended. Delhi made part of Punjab Province 1863 Delhi Municipality established 1911-12 Delhi made capital of British India. Delhi a separate Province 1931 New Delhi inaugurated 1936 Delhi Improvement Trust established 1943 Delhi Rent Control Act 1946-8 Migration of 'refugees' ta Delhi 1947 Indepenfdence and Partition 1947-64 ]awaharlal Nehru Prime Minister 1956 Delhi Sium Clearance and Improvement Act 1957 Delhi Development Authority set up 1962 First Master Plan for Delhi 1966-84 Indira Gandhi Prime Minister 1974 Delhi Urban Art Commission set up 1975-7 The Emergency 1984 Anti-Sikh riots in Delhi 1984 Indian National Trust for Artistic and Cultural Heritage (INTACH) set up 1985 Conservation Society of Delhi registered 1985 National Capital Region Planning Board Act 1997 INTACH completes list of 'heritage' buildings in Delhi

Contributors

PHILIPPE CADÈNE is a Professor of Geography at the University Paul Valéry, Montpellier, France. He has done extensive research on Indian and French cities and towns, and contributed to several edited books in geography and sociology. He recently co-edited Webs ofTrade: Dynamics ofBusiness Communities in Western India (Delhi: Manohar, 1997, with Denis Vidal) and Decentralized Production in India. Industrial Districts, Flexible Specialization and Employment (New Delhi: Sage, 1998, with Mark Holmstrôm).

VÉRONIQUE DUPONT is a Research Fellow in economic-demography at the French Institute ofResearch and Development (IRD, Paris), and a member of the French Centre for the Study of South Asia (CElAS, Paris). She has carried out research on population mobility and the urbanization process in Gujarat and Delhi where she was affiliated with the Institute ofEconomie Growth and the French Centre for Human Sciences. Herrecent publications include Decentralized Industrialization and Urban Dynamics. The case ofJetpur in West India (New Delhi: Sage, 1995).

SYLVIE FRAISSARO is an independent French photographer, whose work focuses on social topies including working conditions, migration issues and popular culture. She contributes to various magazines.

NARAYANI GUPTA is a Professor of History atJamia Millia Isl

SARASWATI HAIDER is a research scholar at the Centre for the Study of Social. Systems, School of Social Sciences, Jawaharlal Nehru University. Her on­ going dissertation is a sociological study of a jhuggi-jhonpri cluster (squatter settlement) in the metropolis of Delhi. She has published several acaderÏüc articles and is also a freelance writer publishing in newspapers,journals and _.­ magazines on topics such as gender, politics, media and social problems.

CHRISTOPHEJAFFRELOT is a Research Fellow at the CNRS and Deputy Director of the Centre d'Etudes et de Recherches Internationales (CERI) in Paris. He teaches South Asian politics at the Institut d'Etudes Politiques of Paris. He is the Editor-in-Chief of Critique Internationale. His recent publications 254 CONTRlBUTORS

include The Hindu NationalistMovement and Indian Politics, 1925 to 1990s (New York: Columbia University Press; London: Hurst; and New Delhi: Viking, 1996), and La démocratie en Inde - Religion, Caste et Politique (Paris: Fayard, 1998). He has also edited L'Inde contemporaine - de 1950 à nos jours (Paris: Fayard, 1996) and with T.B. Hansen, The BJP and the Compulsions ofPolitics in India (Delhi: Oxford University Press, 1998).

A.G. KRIsHNA MENON is the Director of the TVB School of Habitat Studies, New Delhi. He is also a consulting architect and urban planner. His publications inc1ude CulturalIdentity and Urban Development, and Historie Towns and Heritage Zones.

SATISH SHARMA is an independent photographer, photography critic and photography curator. He is interested in the sociology and politics of photography and is working on a subaltern history of Indian photography.

Y.B. SINGH is a Senior Fellow and Director of the Centre for the Study of Developing Societies, Delhi. Besides having contributed numerous articles to academicjournals, he has written Profiles ofPolitical Elites in India; Political Fragmentation andElectoral Processes: 1991 Election in Uttar Pradesh; and Elections in India: DataHand~ook on Lok SabhaElections, 1986-91, volume 2, and has co­ authored Elections in India: Data Handbook on Vidhan Sabha Elections, 1952-85 (five volumes); Between Two Worlds: A Study of Harijan Elites; and Hindu Nationalists in India: The Rise ofthe BharatiyaJanata Party.

ANITA SONI is a Polish-born Indologist and Social Anthropologist (formerly associated with the Institute ofOriental Studies, University ofWarsaw). Since 1978 she has been permanently based in India and works as a freelance researcher and grassroots activist among migrant labourers in the un­ organized sector in semi-urban areas. She is currently collaborating with the Joint Women's Programme, an all-India social action group linking gender issues to the emancipation of and minorities.

EMMA TARLO is a Lecturer in Social Anthropology at Goldsmiths College, University ofLondon. She has carried out research in Gujarat and in Delhi where she was affiliated with the Centre for the Study of Social Systems, JNU. Her recent publications include Clothing Matters: Dress and Identity in India (Delhi: Viking, London: Hurst and Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996) and Unsettling Memories: Narratives of the Emergency in Delhi (forthcoming with Hurst & Co., London).

DENIS VIDAL is a Research Fellow in Social Anthropol~gy at the French Institute ofResearch and Development (IRD, Paris) and an Adjunct Fellow ofthe CSDS. He teaches South Asian Studies at Paris University (Paris VII). He is a member of the French Centre for the Study of South Asia (CElAS, CONTRIBUTORS 255

Paris) and adjunct fellow ofthe Centre for the Study ofDeveloping Societies (Delhi). He is currently an Associate Fellow at the London School of Economies and Political Science. He has carried out research in Himachal Pradesh, Rajasthan and Delhi. His recent publications include: Violence and Truth: a Rajasthani Kingdom Confronts Colonial Authority (Delhi: OUP, 1997) and Webs of Trade: Dynamics ofBusiness Communities in Western India, edited with Ph. Cadène (Delhi: Manohar, 1997).

Index

Abdun Nabi Mosque 162 bazaar 127-9 Advani, LaI Krishna 189 Bhagat, H.K.L. 61 Mghanistan 161 Bhagirath Nagar 91 Aggarwal Sabha 185-6 Bhalla, Balraj 188-9 Agnivesh, Swami 89 Bhalla, Lala Yodhraj 188 Ahmedabad 243 Bharat Dharm Mahamandal182 Airport Authority of India 84 Bharat Insurance Company 186 Akhil Bharatiya Vidyarthi Parishad Bharat Scout and Guides 185 (ABVP) 190 Bharat Sevak Samaj 116 Ali, Sabir 56 Bharatiyajan Sangh (BjS) 210 AlI India Freedom Fighters' Association Bharatiyajanata Party (BjP) 87,181-2, 169 19~200, 210-12, 214, 217, 220, 222-3 AlI India Institute of Medical Sciences Bharatiya Lok DaI 210 (AIIMS) 41 Bhargava, Gopichand 191 Ali India Manufacturers Association of Bhargava, Prakash Dutt 184 Delhi 184 Bhargava, Thakurdas 191 AlI India Scheduled Castes Uplift Bhatia, Gautam 151 Union 194 Bhatnagar, Shanti Swaroop 148 Ambedkar 194 Bhatti Bajri Mines 85-6, 88, 90-2 Andheria Bagh 76 Bhatti village 83 Ara, Matsuo 159, 164 Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary 91 Archaeological Survey oflndia (ASI) Bhikaji Cama Place 153-4 157-8,161-5,167,174 Bienveniste, C. 101 Arya Samaj 182, 184-6, 191, 200 Birla,jugal Kishore 183, 187 AsafAli Road 110, 165 Birla House 187 Asher, Catherine 159 Birla Mandir 178, 183 Ashok Hotel 148 British Delhi 157, 161 Asia 72 exhibition 153 Brown, Percy 159 Asian Games 1982153 Brush,j. 230-1 Asola 83, 86, 88 Asola-Bhatti Wildlife Sanctuary 83, 91 Cadène, Philippe 24, 241 Calcutta, 99, 107,207,241-3,245,248 Badarpur84 Cambodia 161 162 Cantonment Board 158 Baker, H. 169 Cartier-Bresson 176 Bakhtiyar, Kaki 161 Central Refugees Association 190 Balbir Nagar 90 Chanakyapuri 53 Bangalore 243-5, 247-8 Chandan Hola 83, 86 Bapa Nagar 151 Chandidas, Raj 194 Barakhamba Road 184 Chandigarh 245 Baroda House 169 Chandni Chowk 165, 193, 209-12 Barrier, N.G. 186 Chandra,jag Pravesh 192 Bayly, CA 185 Chattarpur 83 258 INDEX

Chattopadhyaya, Kamaladevi 162 Devgun, Har Dayal188 Chennai 99, 107,241,243-4,248 Dharmavir 188 Chhabra 150 Dilshad Garden 154 Choudhury, Brahm Prakash 193 Draft Master Plan for Delhi 53 City Commission on Art 168 Dujana House 61 Civil Lines 160 Dupont, Véronique 15, 19-21,23,99, Clémenceau 16 229 Cochin 245, 248 Durkheim 153 Coimbatore 243, 245 Dutt, Vaid Guru 189 Congress party 210-12,215,217,220, Dwarka 153, 232 222-3 Connaught Place 168, 174, 247 East Delhi 18,209-11 Conservation Master Plan 161 Conservation Society,of Delhi (CSD) Faridabad 91, 246 162-5,167,169-70 Farmhouses 7&-8 Constitution ofIndia, 73rd and 74th Fatehpur Beri 83 Amendment Act 81 Fatehpur Sikri 147 Council of Scientific and Industrial Fergusson,J. 159 Research (CSIR) 148 Ford Foundation 152-3, 162 Cullan, Gordon 160, 168 Forest Department, Delhi Government 90 Dairy Kisan Chand 58 Fraissard, Sylvie 97 Daryaganj 190 Das, Veena 52 Gandhi, Indira 60,63,66, 162, 168, Dass, Kalka 194 176,215 Dayal, Maheshwar 165 Gandhi, Mahatma 18,187 Dayananda 182,186 Gandhi, Rajiv 174, 177 Delhi Administration 84-8, 92 Gandhi, Sanjay 60, 63, 90 Delhi Development Authority (DDA) Gandhi, Sonia 174 31,55,57-8,60-1,64,76,82,89, 100, Geertz, Clifford 125, 127-8 108,150,152-4, 158, 160,162-5,232 Godse, Nathuram 187 Delhi Imperial Zone (DIZ) 147,173 Golwalkar, Madhav Sadashiv 184-5, 187 Delhi Land Finance Company (DLF) Graham, Bruce 195 84 gram sabha 81,84, 8&-9 Delhi Master Plan see, Master Plan for Granovetter, Mark 126 Delhi Gupta, Dipankar 186 Delhi Municipal Corporation 108 Gupta, Hans Raj 184-5, 187-8, 190 Delhi Refugee Federation 192 Gupta, Kanwar LaI 185-6, 189, 193 Delhi Sadar 209, 211 Gupta, Lala Harischandra 184-5 Delhi State Industrial Development Gupta, Narayani 18, 157 Corporation (DSIDC) 85-6, 88-90 Gupta; Rajendra 185 Delhi State Mineral Development Gupta, Shyam Charan 186, 190 Corporation (DSMDC) 86, 88 Delhi University Students Union Haider, Saraswati 20-1, 23, 29 (DUSU) 190 Hauz Khas village 163 Delhi Urban Arts Commission (DUAC) Hazarat Nizamuddin 161 155, 162, 165, 168 Hedgewar 183, 188 Deoli village 86 Heinz, Karl 19, 151 Dera village 77 Hindu Mahasabha 182-3, 187-8, 190, Development Department, Delhi 192 Government 81-2 Hindu-Muslim violence 52, 68-9 INDEX 259

Hindu nationalism 22 Kanpur 244 Hindustan Scouts Association 184 Kanvinde, A.P. 148 Houseless people 99-120 Kapashera 84 Housing and Urban Development Karol Bagh 192-4, 209, 211 Corporation (HUDCO) 154-5 Kendriya Chamarti Sabha 190 Humayun Tomb 162, 164, 170 Kennedy,John Fitzgerald 174 Hyderabad House 169 Khan,AbduIGh~farI92 Khanna, Balraj 190 India Gate 58, 169 Khanna, Mehr Chand 150, 190-2 India International Centre 162 Khari Baoli 19,24, 110 Indian Institute ofTechnology 153 Khilji, Alauddin 163 Indian National Trust for Artistic and Khirki Masjid 164 Cultural Heritage (INTACH) 147, Khurana, Madan LaI 197, 200 166-7, 169-70 Kingsway Camp 190-2 Indira Gandhi Indoor Stadium 154 Kiran (non-government organization) Indira Gandhi National Centre for the 41 Arts 154, 177 Koch, Ebba 159 Indira Nagar 90 Kohli, Om Prakash 197 Institute ofSocial Sciences, New Delhi Krishnan, Mahasha 188 89 Irving, Robert 168 Lahore 185 Lajpat Nagar 150,190 Jaffrelot, Christophe 22-3, 181 LaI Kuan village 86 Jagmohan 57-8, 64, 90, 150, 165 Land Acquisition Act of 189479-80 Jain, Padam Raj 183 Lawrence Road 129-30 Jaipur 248 Le Corbusier 159 Jaisalmer 147 Leach, Edmond 1.52 Jalandhar 246 Lewis, Oscar 44 Jama Masjid 15,53,61, 160, 165, 167, Lodi Garden 163, 247 175 Lodi Tomb 162 J amali Kamali 163 Ludhiana 245-6 Jamuna Bazaar 56-9 Lutyens, Edwin 17-19, 147, 152, 158-61, Jamuna Bridge 59-60, 62 167-8 Janakpuri District Centre 153 Jana Sangh 181-2, 185-8, 191-8,200 Madhok, Balraj 188-90, 192 Janata Colony 61-2 Mahavir, Bhai 188-90 Janata DaI 210 Mahipalpur 77, 83-4, 88 Janata Party 210 Maidan Garhi 86 Jaunapur village 89, 91 Malaviya Nagar 190 Jawaharlal Nehru University 76, 153-4 Malhotra, Vijay Kumar 188, 190 Jhabwala, C.S.H. 159, 190 Malik, Baljit 82 jhuggijhonpri clusters, see squatter Malkani, K.R. 183, 189,192 settlements Maneo, Rafael 148 JhuggiJhonpri Removal Scheme (lJRS) market 127-9 55 Masjid Moth 162 Joint Women's Programme 90 Masoodpur 83 Jones, Kenneth 182 Master Plan for Delhi 152-3, 160, 164, 232 Kaka Nagar 151 Max Mueller Bhawan 165 Kala Mahal 61 Mehra, A.K. 102 Kalkaji 153-4 Mehrauli 22,158,164,194 260 INDEX

Mehrauli-Badarpur road 76-7 Paharganj 197 Mehrauli countryside 75 Palam 84 Mehta, Mohan Singh 184 PanchsheeI Park 151 Menon, A.G. Krishna 17,19,143 Papankala 232 Mini Master Plan for Development of Pareto 153 Rural Delhi 81 Parmanand,Bhai188,191 Mithapur village 86 pavement dwellers 106-10, 113-14, 116- Mookerjee, Syama Prasad 188-9 19 Morocco 127 Petruccioli, Attilio 159 Moti Nagar 190 Pitampura 76 Mughal Delhi 157 Polanyi 127 Mujeeb, M. 159 Pragati Maidan 58 Muley, Madhav Rao 185, 188 Praja Parishad 188 Mumbai 99, 107, 116,241-5,247-9 Prasad, Rajendra 57 Municipal Corporation of Delhi (MCD) pre-Mughal Delhi 157, 160 35,58-9,89,158,163,167,192-3,196 Press Information Bureau 177 Myrdal, Gunnar 149 Punjab National Bank 186 Punjabi Bagh 76 NDMC City Centre 154 Purana Qila 162 Nagpur 183, 185 Puri, Gita 190 Najafgarh 77-8 Nandy, Ashis 16 Qutb Enclave 76 Narain, ]agat 191 Qutb Minar 164 Narang, Gokul Chand 187 National Alliance of People's Rabindra Bhawan 148 Movement 90 Radhaswamy Satsang 86 National Capital Region of Delhi 207 Rai, La:ipat 182,191 National Capital Territory of Delhi 206­ Rai, Raghu 175-6 7,231,233,235-8,244 Raisina hill147, 168 National Gallery of Modern Art 154, Rajghat 58, 169 176 Rajendra Place 153 Naya Bazaar 125-6, 129-38 Rajinder Nagar 150 Nehru,]awaharlaI19, 148-9, 160, 168, Rajokri Stone Mines 85 187, 192,247 Rajokri village 77, 83, 86 Nehru Memorial Library 176 Ramesh Nagar 190 Nehru Place 153 Rana, M.M. 162 Nehru Planetarium 162 Rangpuri 83, 86,88-9 New Delhi 17-18,209,211 Rangpuri Pahar Nala 88-9 New Delhi Municipal Committee Rangpuri Stone Mines 85, 88 (NDMC) 150, 154, 158, 167 Rashtrapati Bhawan 18, 169 New Seelampur 54-5, 67 Rashtriya Swayamsevak Sangh (RSS) Nigam Bodh Ghat 57-8 182-91,194,197-8,200 night shelters lOI, 103, 115, 119 Red Fort 18,160,166-7,247 Nilsson, Sten 160 Refugee ReHefCommittee 190 ninth Delhi 157-60 Rehman, Habib 148 Nizamuddin 107 Resettlement Colonies 20, 24 Rihand Super Thermal Power Project Oke, Vasant Rao 183-5, 188-9 79 Okhfa 76 Roarks, Howard 146 Old Delhi 99-120,127 Rohini 153, 232 Outer Delhi 75-92, 209-12, 223 roofless people 99-120 INDEX 261

Roshan Chiragh-e Delhi 161 Sultanpuri 52, 68 Ruchi Vihar 76 Sumnaskar, S.P. 194 rural village 80 Swaraj, Sushma 200

Sadar Bazaar 193-4 1VB School of Habitat Studies, New Safdarjang Tomb 162 Delhi 144-5 Sahni, Kedar Nath 188-9 Tarlo, Emma 15, 17-18,21,23,51,76 Sahurpur86 Teen Murti 176 Saket76,153 Tehri Dam 79 Salimgarh 167 Tibia College 192 Salwan, G.D. 190 Tighri 76 Sainik Farms 76 Trilokpuri 176 Sanjay Colony 90-1 Tughlaqabad 15, 17,76, 162 Sant Yoga Ashram 86 Turkman Gate 165 Sardar Patel Gramodaya Yojana 81 Sarvadeshik Arya Pratinidhi 182 Ugrasen's baoli 164 Satbari village 83 unauthorized colonies 20, 24 School of Planning and Architecture University of Delhi 153, 161 159, 162, 165, 168 Upadhyaya, Deen Dayal195 Seelampur 53 Urban villages 80 Seemapuri 60 Shahdara 192 Shahjahanabad (Old Delhi) 17-20,102, Vajpayee, A.B. 181,200 147,157-8,160-1,164-6,168 Varanasi 244 Sharma, Din Dayal182, 188 Vasant Kunj 76, 153 Sharma, Mauli Chandra 188-9 Vasant Vihar 76 Sharma, Satish 17, 173 Verma, Sahib Singh 198,200 Sharma, YD. 161 Vidal, Denis 15, 19,23,125 shelterless people 99-120 Vijay Mandai 163 Shivalik Enclave 151 Vishveshwarya, A. 184 Sikh massacre of 1984 52,66-7 Vyarawalla, Homai 176 Singh, Chattrapati 79 Singh, Khushwant 16 Walled City of Delhi 100-20, 125 Singh, Patwant 168 Weber, Max 127,153 Singh, RanaJang Bahadur 191 We1ch, Anthony 159 Singh, V.B. 22-3, 205 We1come resettlement colony 53-69 Sitaram Bazaar 184 Wildlife Sanctuary 86, 89 Sium andlJ Wing 31, 100 Windsor Place 168 Sium Areas (Improvement and Wirth, Louis 43 Clearance) Act 1956 103 women, in squatter settlement 29-48 Soni, Anita 22-3, 75 Wright, Frank Lloyd 159 South Delhi 209, 211 Spear, Percival 16, 159 Yamamoto, T. 159 squatter settlement 21, 24, 29-48 Srinivaspuri 59 Zafar, Bahadur Shah 164 sterilization drive 197660,62-6 Zafar Mahal 164 Edlt~.

V6ronlque Dupont is a Research F~llow in economic-demography at the French Institute of Research and Development (IRD, Paris), and a member of the French Centre for the Study of South Asia (CEIAS, Paris). Her recent publications include Decentralized Industrialization and Urban DYnamics. The case ofJetpur in West India (New Delhi: Sage, 1995). Emma Tarlo is a Lecturer in Social Anthropology at Goldsmiths College, University of London. Her recent publiCations include Clothing Matters: Dress and Identity in India (Delhi: Viking, London: Hurst and Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996) and Unsettling Memories: Narratives ofthe Emergency in Delhi (forthcoming with Hurst & ~o.,London). Denll Vldal is a Research Fellow In Social Anthropology at the French Institute of Research and Development (IRD. Paris) and an Adjunct Fellow of theCSDS. He teaches South Asian Studies at Paris University (Paris VII). His recent publications include: Violence and Truth: a Rajasthani Kingdom Confronts Colonial Authority (Delhi: OUP, 1997) and Webs of Trade: Dynamics of Business Communities in Westem India, edited with Ph. Cadene (Delhi: Manohar, 1997).

Jacket illustration: Reframed from a phot~raph by Satish Sharma

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ISBN81·7~ MANOHAR-cSH PUBUCATlONS

CULTURAL ENCOUNTERS IN SOUTH ASIA FRANCOISE 'NAUNt' DELVOYE and CHANDER SHEKHAR Directory of Scholars and Institutions In the Field of Indo-Perslan Studies In India . FRANCOISE 'NAuNl' DELVOYE (eel) Confluence of Cultures: French Contributions to Indo-Persian Studies YVES PORTER Painters, Paintings and Books: An Essay on Indo-Perslan Technical Uerature, 12·19th Centuries JEAN-MARIE UFONT Indika: Es..ysln ~ndo-FrencbRelations, 163().1976 MUZAFFAR ALAM, FRANCOISE 'NAUN' DELVOYE and MARC GABORIEAU (eels) The "'aklng of Indo-Perslan Culture: Indian and French Studies

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